Kiss And Dwell

In the
Louisiana
bayou, the temperature is hot, the accents are thick and the
sex is phenomenal. The
Vicknair
family knows; they
’
ve lived in Cajun country
since their Acadian ancestors stepped off the boat at
Lafayette
. The generations
since have done their part to maintain that thick Cajun drawl, have adapted well
to the stifling heat and naturally, have enjoyed their share of superlative sex
.

But the
Vicknair
descendants acquired a bit of lagniappe, a little something
extra, as well. From the moment the family entered
Louisiana
, each member merged
with the other side. Not the other side of the state line, or even the other
side of St. Charles Parish. Oh no, they traversed the boundary between the
living and the dead. They quickly realized their only chance of living a
seminormal
life was by aiding those spirits who were having difficulties
crossing over, helping them make what was wrong right, so they could find their
way to the other side.

The newest generation of
Vicknairs
understands their duty to continue the family
tradition and protect their secret. True,
Louisiana
is known for ghosts,
vampires and voodoo. But so far, the
Vicknair
mediums have kept their penchant
for the nonliving a secret. They live normal lives, for the most part. And the
youngest
Vicknairs
want to keep it that way.

Perfecting their talent with every crossing, these mediums are slowly but surely
learning how to determine a spirit
’
s dilemma and help fulfill that spirit
’
s
needs. Moreover, the six cousins currently performing
Vicknair
medium duty
realize that when a lavender-tinted envelope materializes on the infamous tea
service in the
Vicknair
plantation
’
s sitting room, it
’
s time to get down to
business. Time to help a spirit. And woe to the cousin who ignores an
assignment. While Adeline
Vicknair
may be dead, her feisty temper lives on, and
when she assigns a spirit to one of her grandchildren, she
’
s not just whistling
Dixie
. She wants it handled—or else.

Thankfully, the
Vicknair
grandchildren usually heed her call. They understand
the simple rules associated with helping spirits, rules that have been handed
down from generation to generation and that have never been questioned by
preceding
Vicknairs
—as far as they know:

A medium must heed a spirit
’
s call and handle a spirit
’
s needs in a timely
 
manner. Failure to do so will result in unfavorable—if not
 
painful—repercussions
.

Once a spirit is assigned to a medium, the two are emotionally bonded until
 
the spirit
’
s requirement for crossing over has been fulfilled. This bond
 
should never be abused nor taken for granted in any way, shape or form
.

A medium should never lie to a spirit; likewise, spirits are physically
 
incapable of lying to mediums
.

A medium may not touch a spirit. Period
.

Three girls—determined
Nan
, wild Monique and sweet
Jenee
—make up the female half
of the
Vicknair
mediums. Strong-willed Tristan, playboy Gage and tenderhearted
Dax
are their male counterparts. While the young mediums are repeatedly reminded
of the rules, this new breed of feisty
Vicknairs
is under the distinct
impression that rules were made to be broken—especially Monique.

Monique
Vicknair
spooned sautéed crawfish tails from the black cast-iron pot,
inhaled the spicy scented air, then turned toward
Pierre
and smiled.
“
Okay,
bring me that bowl,
”
she instructed, pointing a red-tipped finger toward the
large dish. She
’
d had her nails done today at her salon. Nails done, brows
waxed, skin moisturized, hair trimmed—the works. And tonight, she planned to put
the works to the test with Pierre
Comeaux
.

“
This bowl?
”
He lifted the white ceramic dish embellished with a thick blue ring
around its bulging middle. Green onions, yellow onions and chopped bell pepper
towered above the rim and added another tantalizing scent to the kitchen. He
held the bowl out of her reach.
“
Do you need this,
chère
?
”
he asked, green eyes
glittering with mischievousness. He knew she wanted him, and from the cocky
smirk on his gorgeous face, he probably knew how much.

“
Yes, I do.
”
She swallowed thickly and prayed that the summons from Adeline
Vicknair
would wait long enough for at least one time of hot-and-heated with
Pierre
. Over the past six months, her deceased grandmother had single-handedly
managed to keep Monique from any sexual activities whatsoever. Well, any sexual
activities involving males. Monique had sure given her stash of vibrators a run
for the money. Thank goodness Grandma Adeline didn
’
t have the power to stop a
charged battery, a steamy romance novel and a determined imagination.

But Adeline did have the power to make Monique miserable if she didn
’
t heed a
spirit
’
s calling. In other words, when Monique
’
s skin started burning, signaling
she had a letter waiting, she should return promptly to the
Vicknair
plantation
to start her assignment. Do not pass Go; do not collect two hundred dollars.

However, the operative word in that sentence? Should. She should return. But why
now? Why this time? Why couldn
’
t Grandma Adeline give her a little more time,
just until
Pierre
made her toes curl? It never failed that the minute her libido
experienced that exquisite elation, at the telltale moment of
orgasm-here-we-come, some distressed specter decided to pay Monique a visit. Not
exactly what the doctor ordered for a woman who enjoyed sex.

Take tonight, for example. Pierre
Comeaux
’
s
invitation to a
“
cozy dinner on my
terrace, beneath the whisper of mighty oak branches and a warm July breeze
”
had
started Monique
’
s sparks burning hotter than a levee bonfire at Christmas
.

Naturally, the image that came to mind was of the two of them sprawled on the
veranda, their stomachs sated from a delicious meal and their sexual appetites
equally sated from a delightful tango beneath a limitless blanket of stars.

Unfortunately, Monique had had a hell of a day at the beauty shop, with nothing
going quite right, particularly in the color arena. And double unfortunately,
she knew what that meant. It was only a matter of time until Adeline sent a
summons that would warrant the attention of her middle granddaughter.

Middle. Middle girl in the list of cousins and middle child in her own family,
with Gage the playboy serving as big brother and
Dax
the tenderhearted forming
her younger bookend. Middle children were known for demanding attention, right?
Well, she was ready to demand some now—from
Pierre
. Time was wasting. Flesh was
stinging. Ghosts were coming.

She took a deep breath and prepared to ask the most gorgeous combination of
dark-haired, tanned and muscled Cajun she
’
d seen in quite a while if they could
skip dinner completely and get naked, but before she could make the request, he
inhaled the tantalizing scents in the kitchen, emitted an extremely male
guttural growl, and grinned.

“
I
’
ve wanted to share a dinner with you—share a night with you—for a long time,
”

he said.
“
You, me, delicious food and an entire night to explore possibilities.
”

His smile broadened, his eyes smoldered with desire. He obviously saw all of
this heat in the kitchen as enticing foreplay, and she did too; she just didn
’
t
know if she had time for it.

As it was, she
’
d botched three color treatments today at Monique
’
s Masterpieces,
her salon in nearby Ormond. Not completely botched, she supposed, but the auburn
had ended up a bit too red, the blond a bit too platinum, and the black a bit
too Elvis. That, in and of itself, told her she had a ghostly visitor on the
way. Add the stinging growing stronger and stronger on the back of her neck, and
Monique knew her minutes were numbered. If she did happen to get things started
with
Pierre
, she wasn
’
t planning on it being a quick encounter. Have mercy, she
prayed he wasn
’
t a minuteman. A marathon man was what she needed after going
this long without.