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  She thrust her hand behind her, waving him back. “I should never have come.”

  “I’m really sorry about my brother. He was supposed to be gone for the weekend, but he got a cold.”

  Rodney thought fast. He couldn’t exactly take her to a hotel. The press would have a field day, but he wasn’t letting her out of Georgia without having their date.

  Her hands shook as she pulled her cell phone from her purse. She was probably booking a return trip, with the rideshare service that had brought her here, to take her back to the airport.

  “You can’t leave,” he said, wrapping his fingers around hers to keep them still. “The thought of seeing you has been the only thing getting me through the last few days.”

  “Well, I can’t stay here.”

  “How would you like to go fishing?” he blurted out. It would be private, away from Jack, and he loved doing it.

  “With worms?”

  “Sure. Just you and me. I can’t think of anyplace more romantic than the bayou, and you won’t have to touch any worms.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Then if you want to go, you can.”

  “Why not? I need a break from flying.”

  And we can say goodbye to each other, once and for all. She didn’t have to say the words. He could read them in her eyes.

  “Don’t move. I’m going to make sure Jack stays in his room while you change clothes.”

  He eyed her black thong sandals, showing elegant toes tipped in dark-red polish. Wondering how smooth they’d feel against his lips made his jeans feel extra tight.

  “Did you bring sneakers?”

  She nodded.

  Inside, Linda hovered near the front door. “He promised to stay in his room for a while. I’m going to fix him a hot toddy with bourbon. It should knock him out for a while.”

  “Thanks. You’re the best.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m taking Dee fishing. A little later, give him another, okay?”

  “Sure thing.” A smile crossed her face. “Good romance is hard to find.”

  The woman had a heart of gold. She deserved a lot better than Jack, despite his money and fame.

  Ten minutes later, Dee had changed into white shorts and sneakers. She hadn’t brought a hat, so he’d lent her a baseball cap. It looked adorable with her big sunglasses and curly hair. After spritzing his clothes with bug spray, he handed the bottle to her.

  She wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks.”

  “Trust me. You’ll need it. The mosquitoes here are as big as birds.” He eyed her endless legs, imagining them damp with mist. “At least spray the hat and your shoes.”

  “Where’s the boat?” she asked after following his suggestion.

  He handed her the tackle box and carried two poles plus a small cooler out the back door. “It’s a little walk down here.”

  “Is all this your land?” she asked as they strolled through acres of greenery.

  “Yep.” As they approached the water, oaks gave way to pines and mangrove thickets.

  “A swamp,” she exclaimed. “How cool!”

  He led her to the small pier where his flat-bottomed bass boat was tethered. Maybe Plan B would turn out, after all. Staying in the house might have tempted him to take her to bed too soon. And before the day ended, he would definitely take her to bed. Even if he had to give his brother ten sleeping pills.

  After seating her in front, he sat at the stern. He started the small motor and steered them deeper into the swamp. As usual, the chorus of birds and frogs—along with the rich, earthy smell—soothed his nerves.

  “Have you ever fished before?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Dad fishes in the river sometimes to save money on meat, but he always deals with the worms.”

  What a unique woman. Sophisticated city attorney on one hand. Rugged country girl on the other. Exactly his type… He wished everyone else would agree. Why did their skin have to be different tones?

  He chose a spot where he’d had good luck before. Would he get lucky with her, too? God, she made him feel like a horny teenager. The stress of touring melted away under the dappled sunlight.

  After he baited her hook, he handed her the pole and told her how to cast it. “The swamp is a little different from the river. The trick is to be gentle and quiet.”

  Good advice for an interracial relationship. Relationship? Would they even get to that point? He hoped not. His life was stressful enough. This weekend, if it went well, would be a nice memory to get him through nights of not enough sleep and morning hangovers.

  Hopefully, she felt the same way. After all, a civil rights attorney didn’t have much business hanging out with a dyed-in-the wool rebel.

  As if reading his mind, she pointed to the small Dixie flag hanging from a pole mounted on the boat’s bow.

  “You sure love that flag, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I forgot it was there.” He’d also forgotten about the one in his bedroom. Seeing it would probably turn her off as much as his bigoted brother had. “Does it bother you?”

  “It doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy,” she admitted, “but I can deal. Why are you so obsessed with them, anyway?”

  “I wouldn’t call it obsessed.” His line jiggled as a muscle twitched in his arm. “Last time we saw each other, I told you what the South means to me. The flag is just my way of showing pride and joy in my heritage. History shouldn’t be completely obliterated. Otherwise, we won’t learn anything from it.”

  “It is your property and not a public library,” she agreed. “Sometimes, I think the pride thing goes too far, though. Waving a flag is like saying I’m different, I’m special, I’m better. I prefer to blend in and point out my similarities with others so everybody is one.”

  Irritation prickled down his arms, and it had nothing to do with the sun and bug spray on them. Did this woman ever stop debating? He needed peace and relaxation, not more stress. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her here. She’d gone to that rally ready to embrace conflict. He’d gone because his brother had dragged him there.

  He should definitely take the flag in his bedroom down if he expected to sleep with her… Maybe he needed a peaceful woman. Someone like Linda.

  The idea bored him. In bed, he’d rather be stirred up. Otherwise, he’d just agree with Dee and focus on fishing. Speaking of fish, where were they? Their sparring must be putting out bad vibes and keeping them away.

  “Your friend giving everyone the finger doesn’t exactly blend in,” he said instead.

  She grimaced. “I told her that. She’s angry about a lot of stuff most white people don’t care or even know about.”

  “Hostility just causes more hostility,” he said. “Racial harmony will never happen with that going on.”

  “I agree there.”

  “We are one,” he repeated. “Your parents got that from the sixties, right?”

  “Probably. It’s been their way of life ever since.”

  “Believing everybody is one is cool,” he continued, “but impossible to achieve in reality. There’s always somebody who’s going to have hard times and feel worthless and left out. The flag says I’m somebody. I’m important. I belong somewhere.”

  “Black lives matter,” she murmured. “In a weird way, I think we’re getting at the same thing.”

  “My flag doesn’t say I think I’m better than anyone else,” he said, setting down his pole. “It just says I’m me, and it’s my right to show it. Like I have a choice in what clothes I wear or how I wear my hair. Would you want to live in a society where everyone is forced to have the same cars and clothes? To listen to the same kind of music, or none at all?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Other people can have their flags, too,” he said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

  She squinted at the water. “Maybe we should change the subject.”

  “We should if we want to catch anything. Our vibes are scaring off every critter for miles.”

  She looked down. “It’s just that I like you, Rodney, but I want to like all of you, with open eyes. Not chase after some fantasy based solely on physical appearance.”

  His breath caught. “I like you, too.”

  “We’re hopeless.”

  “No, we’re not.” He adjusted the bill of his cap. “I think we’re both open-minded.”

  She swatted a mosquito. “My parents taught me we should try to fix society instead of sitting around and watching it deteriorate.”

  “I admire that about you, and them.”

  Oh, hell. He was really starting to like this lady. Not good. Not good at all…

  “Well, hey,” he said. “We’ve brought up some good issues and explored them pretty thoroughly. It’s more than a lot of people bother to do.”

  She jumped so suddenly, the boat wobbled.

  “Did you catch something?” he asked.

  “No, I wish I’d recorded all our debates.”

  He didn’t. Talk about a PR nightmare. “Why?”

  “Because other people need to hear it. We thoroughly explored both sides.” She slapped her pole against the side of the boat as if it were a gavel. “Racial education is needed.”

  “You could write a book,” he suggested.

  “Maybe I will.”

  They were both silent for a few moments.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I never figured I’d be in the middle of a swamp, but it’s cool.”

  “By the way, you passed my test.”

  “Oh? What test is that?” she asked with an adorable grin.

  “You haven’t once complained about the heat or humidity.”

  “It’s all
good,” she said, laughing as she adjusted her sunglasses. “I grew up without electricity, so air conditioning is optional.”

  He reached into the cooler, pulled out a can of beer, and popped the top. “You want one?”

  “No, thanks, but I’ll take some more bug spray.”

  Was alcohol another difference between them? He reminded himself it didn’t matter. This was just a weekend, not a marriage. Lately, he’d been cutting back, though, because it caused more trouble than it was worth. Was there some unwritten rule saying rock stars had to be party animals?

  “Here you go,” he said, handing her the bottle. “Like I said, the mosquitoes here are vicious, but the ones in Louisiana are in a class by themselves.”

  “I guess you’ve been to a lot of places,” she said.

  He nodded. “Do you like to travel?”

  “Some.”

  Which meant the touring lifestyle wouldn’t work for her. A person had to really love travel to hack it. He didn’t even love it. Not as much as Jack.

  “Now that we’ve calmed down, what’s say we try to catch a fish?”

  She stared at her pole and shrugged. “You’re the expert.”

  “Let’s meet in the middle.” He pointed to the center seat. “On the count of three, let’s sit there.”

  They managed to make the move without upsetting the boat. Her hip brushed his, reminding him some differences could be good.

  “Miss Dobson, I believe you need some hands-on instruction.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  A huge smile pulled his attention to her lush lips. The clear gloss on them begged to be tasted. He spread his legs slightly and pulled her back-first onto his lap. Then he handed her one of the fishing poles and covered her arms and hands with his. Finally, he rested the side of his head against hers.

  They slumped into the seat as tension released inside both of them.

  “Be as still as you can,” he whispered in her ear, “and the fish will come.”

  The rosy scent of her hair mixed with the rich vegetation around them, making him imagine he was in a flower garden. Her skin was the smoothest thing he’d ever felt. It took every bit of self-control he had not to lay her in the bottom of the boat and undress her.

  She leaned back in his arms, a serene smile on her lips. “It’s so peaceful here.”

  “It’s also my favorite place.” He gazed up at the moss hanging from the trees. “When I die, my spirit will probably hang around in the swamp.”

  She shivered, vibrating the boat. He felt it, too. A sudden chill, even though the air felt just as hot and heavy as it had a minute ago.

  “Dee,” he whispered. Her lips were so close. Kiss her already. Hadn’t he done that and more to too many groupies to count?

  “I’ve got one!”

  He felt it, too. The rod quivered in their hands, making every muscle in his body vibrate along with it.

  “We’ll bring it in together,” he whispered.

  He guided her hands through every movement until the fish flopped on the bottom of the boat. The peace had been broken. Poles clattered and fell with a crash, water droplets splashed in their faces, and the boat dipped dangerously low to one side.

  “It’s a channel catfish,” he said.

  “What are we going to do with it?” she squealed.

  A serious feeling settled over him. “Send it back.”

  “Oh, okay.” When she reached for it, he stopped her.

  “We have to do it gently, to minimize its stress.”

  He snatched an old rag from the side of the boat and used it to grasp the fish. Once he had it, he lowered it close to the surface of the water before releasing it. Then he held his breath as some bubbles rose to the surface.

  “Did he make it?” she asked, anxiously peering over the side.

  “I think so. Otherwise, he’d be floating.”

  “That was fun,” she said.

  “You made it fun.” He pulled her onto his lap again. Then he slid her sunglasses off to see her beautiful eyes.

  “Rodney, I know you’re a Southern gentleman and all, but if you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  He yanked off their hats and threw them somewhere into the boat. “Part of being a gentleman is knowing the right time and place.”

  And knowing when a private moment should be grabbed, because there may never be another.

  “Is this it?” she asked.

  He tilted her chin with his index finger and ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip. She squirmed in his lap, exhaling a moan before he locked his arms around her and claimed the rest of her mouth.

  “You tell me.”

  Chapter Six

  By the time Dee got off the bass boat, she was reeling. Not from seasickness but Rodney’s intoxicating kisses. They must have sat entwined like that for an hour. The fabric of his black tank top, and the muscles it displayed, warm under her hands. His golden-brown hair and beard tickling her face. And the humidity, sticking her clothes so tight to her body, they screamed to be peeled off.

  He’d squeezed her hip. “We’d better return to the house and clean up.”

  She’d nodded, but part of her hated to leave the swamp. It was so peaceful and private. Unlike the house where she’d had such a nice greeting from his nasty brother.

  It’s just a date, she reminded herself for the hundredth time today. But after being held in Rodney’s arms, she wanted more than one date. A lot more.

  They gathered the gear but said little on the walk back to the house. He’d been so gentle with that fish, and after their second debate, which she hadn’t planned, she still couldn’t find any reason not to like him.

  When they reached the back door, he opened it for her.

  “Uh-uh,” she said. “You go first.”

  Let him deal with Jack. If the man saw her waltzing into his house, he’d probably accuse her of robbing the place and call the local sheriff. Although glad to see Rodney’s home, she’d be sure to insist on having their future dates somewhere else.

  They set their gear down in the mud room. He took her hand and walked down the hall. The sound of snoring reverberated one of the closed doors.

  “Good,” he whispered. “Jack’s asleep.”

  Hopefully, he’d stay that way. Next, he led her through a nearby door. The room had to be almost as big as her apartment, and the varnished wood floors made it look timeless. It also had a king-sized bed, covered in a quilt, plus a plaid loveseat. Over the desk hung—what else—the Confederate flag.

  Another one? The man must have lived a past life as a soldier during the Civil War. Although still not thrilled by the sight of the red thing, it didn’t make her quite as uncomfortable. Now, she knew what it meant—and didn’t mean—to him.

  Checking out the bed kept her too busy, anyway. Would they end up in it? Her heart hammered at the idea of continuing what they’d started in the boat. She’d never craved a man so much. To fill her body, heart, and soul.

  She’d never married because she hadn’t met the right person. Because, from watching her parents’ deep and abiding love for each other, she knew how the right one was supposed to feel.

  Like Rodney.

  He opened a door inside the spacious room and waved her toward it. Her jaw dropped at the size of his master bathroom. Nearly every surface gleamed white with dusky-gold accents. She grinned at the pale-green walls, which depicted swamp foliage.

  “This room is pretty enough to live in,” she exclaimed.

  He grabbed an enormous green towel and washcloth from the metal rack and set them on the vanity. “Here you go. Soap and shampoo are inside the stall. Do you need anything else?”

  Their gazes caught and held…too long.

  When he grabbed the belt buckle of his jeans, her gaze dropped to his hand and didn’t let go.

  “I need a shower, too,” he said hoarsely. “And, well, there’s no flag in here.”

  “I expected you to have one as a shower curtain,” she joked.

  But she caught his drift. Running water would mask any sounds they made in case the evil brother woke up. Without taking her eyes off Rodney’s waist, she stooped to remove her sneakers. She straightened and padded toward him in slow motion. The thick rug massaged her feet, which only fed the desire rising inside her like a high tide.