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Authors: Linda Conrad

A Scandalous Melody

BOOK: A Scandalous Melody
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“Hello, Katherine.”

That deep, dangerous voice…

The humidity closed in despite the air-conditioning and cut off the words in Kate's throat. Sweat beaded at her temple and on the back of her neck. He was still the best-looking man she'd ever seen.

“I, uh,” she stammered. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “Hello, Chase. You took me by surprise. It's been a long time. How've you been?”

“Considerably better than last time we saw each other,
chère.

“All right, Chase. What do you want here?”

It took a few seconds for him to answer. She couldn't breathe.

“Everything, Kate,” he finally told her. “I want it all.”

A SCANDALOUS MELODY
LINDA CONRAD

Books by Linda Conrad

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The Gentrys: Abby
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The Gentrys: Cal
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Slow Dancing with a Texan
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The Laws of Passion
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Between Strangers
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Seduction by the Book
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Reflected Pleasures
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A Scandalous Melody
#1684

LINDA CONRAD

Award-winning author Linda Conrad was first inspired by her mother, who gave her a deep love of storytelling. “Actually, Mom told me I was the best liar she ever knew. And that's saying something for a woman with an Irish-storyteller's background,” Linda says. In her past life Linda was a stockbroker and certified financial planner, but she has been writing contemporary romances for six years now. Linda's passions are her husband, her cat, Sam, and finding time to read cozy mysteries and emotional love stories. She says, “Living with passion makes everything worthwhile.” Visit Linda's Web site at www.LindaConrad.com or write to her at P.O. Box 9269, Tavernier, FL 33070.

This is for my niece, Christine Norris,
a most terrific wife, mom, sister and friend!
Thanks for all your support!

Prologue

D
ark, dangerous street corners and after-hours sounds of jazzy blues playing eerily in the distance meant nothing to Passionata Chagari.

She stood quietly in the shadows, awaiting the arrival of the lost heir to the gypsy legacy, Chase Severin. His grandmother, Lucille Steele, was long buried in her grave. Yet just today, Chase had been informed of his status as heir to her fortune.

Now, after a long night of revelry, Chase would receive a bequest that was much more valuable than all of Lucille's money. Passionata patted the deep pocket in the long, flowing silk of her favorite scarlet dress and smiled.

This young man would be the most difficult one to help, she knew. Yet Passionata had given her father her word. No matter what the circumstances, the lost Steele heir was to receive the gift that was meant for him.

Chase Severin wandered out of the French Quarter bar right at closing, mulling over the events of the last couple of days and feeling staggered by everything he'd learned—and perhaps by that last straight shot of bourbon.

He wasn't just the wayward son of a small-town drunk as he'd believed for all of his life. Son of a—

He had actual relatives and shared family trees. And on top of the new fortune, Chase had also inherited an exalted social standing.

Stopping at an empty street corner, Chase lit up one of his long thin cigars and blew a fragrant, gray circle of smoke out into the darkness. He'd meant to quit this nasty habit, and had cut way down. But just now he needed all the help he could get.

His whole life…everything he'd ever believed about himself…most of it simply wasn't true. The secrets and the misunderstandings were still not all clear to him. But he knew things would be different from now on.

Still cloaked by the darkness, Passionata read his mind. She chuckled at the thought of just how truly different this young man's life was about to become.

“Celebrating, Severin?” she said aloud as she stepped into the yellow lamplight. “You have reason.”

Chase nearly choked on his own smoke when the strange and creaky voice came unexpectedly out of the shadows. He turned to face one of the oddest women he'd ever seen. She was dressed up in wild colors like a fortune-telling gypsy. The hair that hung loose beneath a deep-purple head scarf was a mottled salt-and-pepper color. And her watery eyes gleamed strangely bright under the streetlight.

“Do we know each other?” he asked when he found his voice.

“I am Passionata Chagari, and I have a debt to repay.”

“Not to me, you don't. I keep careful records of my accounts.” Chase took a long, thoughtful drag and flipped the cigar in the gutter.

She smiled a partially toothless grin. “This debt is to be repaid in the form of a legacy left to you by your grandmother Steele and by my father, the king of the gypsies.”

Most of what she'd said was too weird for Chase to fathom. He'd only been aware of his grandmother Steele's existence for a few days, and the only reason he knew now was because she'd died and left him part of her fortune.

So he took the old woman's arm and held her close. “Don't play with a player, Passionata,” he whispered hoarsely. “You'll only lose. What exactly do you want?”

“Your grandmother Steele was a great lady. She would not care for you to treat your elders with such disdain.” The old woman pulled her arm from his grip. “Lucille Steele saved my life, the life of my family. She was kind to strangers when no other would take the time.”

“I didn't know her,” Chase muttered. “But I'm glad to hear you thought she was a good person. Lucille's dead now. Do you expect me to take up your care where she left off?”

The gypsy smiled. “Ever the gambler, Severin? You take the risk now that I may have something of value you need.”

She tilted her head to study him and continued. “You
have the chance to change your ways—go back—make right the wrongs. Do you consider the possibilities? Or do you shirk your fate?”

How could she know what he'd been thinking? The moment he'd found out that he'd come from prominent and respectable people, he'd wondered what it would be like to go back.

Passionata reached into a pocket and pulled out something shiny. “This is your part of the gypsy's legacy. It is one of the gifts from my father to the blood descendants of Lucille Steele, in repayment for a kindness.”

Chase took the object from her hand and turned it over to study. A golden replica of an egg, the beautiful artifact had a jewel-encrusted design reminiscent of the great Russian artisans. Old and obviously expensive, it looked like something that should've belonged to a king.

“It is old,” the gypsy began as if to answer his thoughts. “But it belongs to you, and was made for you alone.”

“I'm not that old.” He tried to get her to take it back but she stepped away.

“This orb of jewels is crafted to bring everything you've ever wanted, at long last,” she told him. “Take it back to the beginning. Keep the magic close and let it give to you the riches that have become your heart's desire.”

Chase stared down, mesmerized by the sparkling colors of the precious stones placed in the golden egg-shaped setting. With his new inheritance and the money he'd made from the casinos and the other businesses he'd bought and sold over the years, he could easily afford to buy his own jewels.

But if this was something that should be his heritage… Well, it would be a thing to be proud of. Something to take back and hold out to show that he was a somebody.

“Tell me the whole story of what my grandmother did for your family,” he said as he dragged his gaze from the egg.

But the old gypsy woman was gone, and he was once again standing on a deserted street corner—all alone.

One

“Y
ou won't believe who's back in town.”

Her secretary's words should not have caused a shiver to run along Kate's nerve endings. After all, there were many people who could've come back to Bayou City. But Kate Beltrane knew instinctively who it was that had finally come home.

“I don't have time to guess, Rose. Tell me.” She said the words with a small shrug, as if she didn't care. As if the chance to see him again wasn't the one thing she'd dreamed about every day for the past ten years.

“Chase Severin,” Rose said in a whisper. “I was only twelve when he left. But I remember him as one juicy hunk of a guy. All the girls had such a crush on him.” She fanned herself, acting as if the very thought of him had made her hot and sweaty all of a sudden. “I wonder why he's come home now? His father left town
nearly five years ago. He doesn't have any family here anymore.”

“How do you know it's him? Did you see him?”

“Mrs. Seville told Sallie Jenkins he checked in to the B&B this morning. The word's all over town.”

Kate looked up from her work and noticed that Rose was eyeing her carefully, waiting for some kind of reaction. “We don't have time for gossip,” she told Rose in a mild tone.

She knew the old rumors about her and Chase were bound to resurface now that he was back in town. “Lunchtime is over,” Kate continued. “And we still have a lot to do if we're going to be ready for our appointment with the new owner of the mill this afternoon.

“I don't suppose Mrs. Seville mentioned anything about a stranger checking in, did she?” she asked Rose, trying to deflect any more conversation about Chase Severin.

Rose shook her head, pulled her reading glasses up from their spot on a chain around her neck and placed them on the bridge of her nose. “No. But maybe the new owner will come here first and then check in there after the meeting.”

Seville's B&B was the only place in town for visitors to stay. People did sometimes drive down from one of the motels in New Iberia, and even the hotels of New Orleans were not all that far away. But if a person had business in town, or if they'd come to do a little fishing in the Gulf of Mexico, the deluxe accommodations of the bed and breakfast would be the one and only spot to overnight.

Kate wondered which one had brought Chase back home after all these years. But she didn't have time to
dwell on him right now. Getting these files straightened out for the new mill owner was much more urgent.

Later, in the deep dark stillness of night when the wind whipped through moss-covered live oaks and alligators stealthily slipped through coffee-colored waters hunting for a meal… Later, in the same quiet and sleepless hour of the night that had become Kate's constant and dearest companion… Later. That's when she would take the time to guess about him…and to remember.

“Go back to work, Rose,” she said with a heavy heart. “We only have a couple more hours before we can stop guessing. When the man gets here, we'll know for sure.”

 

Two hours after her discussion with Rose, Kate took a minute to pin up a few loose strands of her unruly curls, readying herself for the appointment. She'd tried hard over the past few years to dress in a more businesslike manner. It wasn't in her nature to wear dress suits. She was a bayou girl at heart. And any shoe with closed toes was not to her taste.

But recently she'd begun to feel as if she owed it to her father—no, check that. She owed it to the town and its dependence on this mill—to look professional.

In a matter of days, the mill could be shut down for good. And with it would go the history, dreams and hopes of every one of Bayou City's twelve hundred residents.

With a quiet sigh, Kate smoothed her hair and inspected the stacks of files on the desk before her. She'd done her best.

The man who would arrive today was from the corporation that had bought the mill. He would be the one to make the final decision about whether this mill
could be put into a good enough position to emerge from bankruptcy, or if the place should be torn down. The future of the mill and the town was out of her hands.

Not that it had ever really been up to her, anyway. No, her father had seen to that.

And to top off a truly miserable day, Chase had come back to town. It figured that he would choose one of her worst moments to show up.

After all this time, it was hard to imagine that he was actually close enough for her to feel his presence. She'd waited so long to see him again.

If she closed her eyes, she could still hear his laughter after ten years. She could still experience the low, rough rumble of his sensual whispers as he'd spoken to her of love on that wonderful June night so long ago.

The most wonderful and the most horrible night of her entire life.

Kate swallowed hard and opened her eyes. Positive Chase's reason for coming home had nothing to do with seeing her, she nevertheless still longed for just a glimpse of him.

It would be better for both of them if they didn't have to face each other—face the hard truths of their shared past. But she would give her right arm for one last look into the quiet gray eyes of the man she had loved since she was ten years old.

Kate heard the anterior reception door open as Rose spoke softly to whomever had just arrived. So…the new owner of the mill was a few minutes early for his appointment. The man must be eager to begin dismantling what little was left of her ancestors' dreams.

Curious, Kate stood and moved to the partially open
door between her office and Rose's. Maybe she could catch a glimpse of the corporation's man and try to judge his intentions from his looks.

She peeked through the crack, and had to twist around so she could see past Rose's desk to find the stranger. Over her secretary's shoulder, Kate caught her first view of the man she had been expecting.

But with a soft gasp, she froze. It wasn't her appointment. No, just to devil her today—just to make her life more of a living hell than it had been for the last ten years—it was Chase Severin, live and very much in the flesh.

He was talking to Rose and smiling down at the secretary with the same boyish grin that had driven Kate wild as a girl. It wasn't the boy that she saw now, but a man. A man dressed in a blue blazer and tan slacks, who looked somehow taller, broader and sexier than the eighteen-year-old of her dreams.

Sudden erotic flashbacks of scraping her nails against that broad back, of dragging her fingers through the hair on his chest while he pleasured her lips—and all those other more delicate places—drove a deep breathtaking ache through her body.

Not now. Please don't come around to make me lose my mind today, Chase. Not today of all days, when I'm trying to stay so strong.

Her back to Kate, Rose started to get up from her desk. Just as suddenly Chase raised his eyes to Kate's office door and for one crazy moment his gaze met hers. Kate's hands trembled at the sight of the dark-gray eyes that she hadn't forgotten for one day in the past ten years.

He was still the best-looking guy she'd ever seen. Only even better as a grown man. With a monumental effort, she turned and scurried back to her desk. Chase was coming her way, there didn't seem to be anything she could do to stop him. The door swung wide just as she reached her chair and turned around.

“You won't believe this,” Rose said as she came into the office with Chase right on her heels. “You remember Chase Severin, don't you, Kate? Well, he's the man we've been expecting. Isn't that a surprise?”

“What…?”
Surprise
was hardly the word for all the emotions that were shooting through her mind and body at the moment. Confusion mixed with remembered desire and caused chaos in her mind.

“Hello, Katherine,” he said in that deep, dangerous voice she had heard so often in the wind and in the rain.

The Louisiana humidity, the nasty low-down kind that usually never bothered her, closed in despite the air-conditioning and cut off the words in Kate's throat. Sweat beaded at her temple and on the back of her neck and she couldn't think of what to say.

He narrowed his eyes. “I guess if a person doesn't say goodbye, that must make it okay for them to ignore hello. Is that right, Ms. Beltrane?” His bitterness was plain…understandable but still hurtful at the same time.

“I, uh,” she stuttered. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “Hello, Chase. You took me by surprise. I'm sorry. It's been a long time. How've you been?”

“Considerably better than I was the last time we saw each other,
chère.

Okay, Kate admitted to herself. Chase had a right to be angry with her—even after ten years. What she'd
done deserved his anger and much more. But she was no longer the scared little
poulette
of her childhood years. Afraid of scandal and rumors, afraid of her father.

“Rose, will you excuse us, please?” she asked her secretary. If this was going to be a rehash of yesteryear, she didn't want the worst of it ending up as gossip around town. There were plenty of other subjects for the citizens to stew about these days.

The secretary excused herself and shut the door behind her. Kate had a momentary flash of fear at being closed up with a man who must hate her guts. But her own curiosity and pride overcame it.

Whatever Chase Severin might be, he would never hurt her physically. She knew that right down to the toes of her too-tight shoes.

“All right, Chase. What do you really want here?”

It took a few long seconds for him to answer. Kate couldn't breathe and wished she'd turned up the air-conditioning earlier. But biting her tongue, she waited.

“Everything, Kate,” he finally told her. “I want it all. And this time I'm not leaving before I take what I've got coming…starting with the mill.”

She felt the confusion and shock spread across her face and reached a hand out to steady herself against the desk. “The mill is in bankruptcy. A corporation has secured the liens that my father…”

“Your dead father, you mean?” Chase interrupted with a sneer. “The one who not only ran me out of town ten years ago, but who also ran the mill right over the edge into oblivion with his careless management.”

“You work for the corporation that has come to take over the operation of the mill?” Kate's knees were
knocking together so loudly that she was petrified he would hear and mock her for it.

“I
am
the corporation, Kate. Surprised? I'm the sole owner of the corporation that now owns the mill. And I haven't decided yet whether to continue operations or burn the thing to the ground.”

The soft gasp escaped her throat before she had a chance to swallow it down. “You have a right to be angry at my father…and at me. But this mill has always been the lifeblood of the town that raised you. You have no cause to take some kind of fanatic revenge against the whole town.”

Chase reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a slender cigar. Without asking permission, he lit it up and then sat down in her chair while he blew out a fragrant cloud of smoke.

“Don't I?” he asked with a wry grin.

 

Chase found he could barely breathe as the room began closing in around him. But he would never let her know how he'd been affected. After ten long years, he was close enough to the woman he had loved and lost to actually reach out and touch her face.

The conflicting emotions swelled in his chest. For so long he had wanted revenge. He'd dreamed of it. Tasted it.

Breathed it in along with his air.

It was revenge against Kate's father, Henry Beltrane, that had occupied his mind for all this time, though. And the bastard had gone and died six months ago. Now, Chase suddenly discovered his intentions toward Kate were much more complicated than he had imagined.

He'd set her up today, just to see what kind of reaction she would have to learning he was the one who now had charge of her future. But he hadn't counted on the fact that with one look, she would still be able to stir his soul and weaken his knees with the very same desperate need he'd had for her as a teenager.

Chase let the nicotine soothe his jangled nerves, while he kept his best poker face on for Kate's benefit. This whole scene was like something out of his dreams.

At twenty-seven, she hadn't changed much from the sweet seventeen-year-old wisp of a girl whom he'd poured his heart out to. Her hair was still a wild riot of ebony curls, even though she'd tried to pin them up off her slender neck. That soft white neck he alternately wanted to kiss—and to wring.

Just now, her rich chocolate eyes were every bit as wild as her hair. There was obvious fear in them. Fear of him and the power he now held over her life.

He wasn't too sure he liked seeing those particular emotions from her. Yes, it was what he'd thought he wanted. He'd wanted her—wanted everyone—to pay.

At this moment, however, seeing her again and being this close to the reality of his dreams…it was not fear that he would've chosen to see in her eyes when she looked at him. Sensual awareness and need were what he longed to see—what he'd secretly desired for so many years.

“Sit down, Kate,” he said in as steady a voice as he could manage.

Could he find the words to say that he wanted her to realize what she'd thrown away the night she let him leave town? And that he wanted her and the whole town to regret what they had let happen to him that night.

She looked pained, as if he'd struck her, and she put the back of her hand against her lips.

But she just as suddenly turned, opened a file drawer and pulled out an ashtray. “Here. If you must have that nasty thing, you'll need this.” Her eyes flashed, dark and furious.

Ah. There was his Kate. The one he remembered from youthful stolen moments and shared secrets. So strong willed. So proud.

BOOK: A Scandalous Melody
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