Sweet Persuasion (28 page)

She was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair hung to her shoulders. Not a single silver hair marred the deep chestnut color, so close to Damon’s own. Where his eyes were a chocolate brown, his mother’s were a sparkling green.

Damon walked around and helped Serena from the car then slipped his hand in hers as they walked toward his mother. She greeted them at the steps, opening her arms to Damon.

Her eyes glittered with tears as she hugged her son, and Serena felt her own throat tighten at the emotional reunion.

“It’s so good to have you home, son,” she said as she pulled away. Then she turned her gaze to Serena and smiled warmly. “I’m Josephine Roche, Damon’s mother.”

Serena smiled in return but before she could open her mouth, Damon put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

“Mom, this is Serena James.”

“I’m so glad to meet you, Serena.”

“I’m very glad to meet you as well, Mrs. Roche.”

“Please call me Jo. It’s what I’m used to.”

“Mom, if you’ll take Serena inside, I’ll get our bags.”

“I’d be glad to. Serena? If you’ll come with me. I have tea made, and supper will be ready in half an hour. I made Damon’s favorite. Sausage gumbo.”

“So what will you and Serena eat?” Damon asked innocently.

Jo laughed then planted both her hands on Damon’s cheeks and kissed him soundly. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve been away too long.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She smiled a little sadly and patted him on the cheek. “I know how hard it is for you.”

He kissed her palm then pulled her hand away and squeezed before letting it go. “You two go on in. I’ll be right behind you.”

Serena followed Jo inside the sprawling southern home. The porch completely wrapped around and butted into a wooden deck in the back of the house. Serena stood at the window looking out over the bayou that snaked its way through the Roches’ property.

“Great view, isn’t it?” Jo asked beside her.

Serena turned to take the glass of tea that Jo offered and nodded. “Do you have alligators?”

Jo grinned. “A few. Damon used to go hunting them when he was a teenager. Always swore he’d get one. He and his father spent many hours up and down these swamps. They caught plenty of catfish, but never any gators.”

“You’re not telling all my secrets are you, Mom?” Damon asked as he came to stand behind Serena.

He put his arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on top of her head. Serena tensed, not entirely comfortable with the display of affection in front of a woman she’d just met, but Jo smiled openly in delight.

“I thought we could eat out on the deck this evening. We can watch the sun go down and look for fireflies over the bayou,” Jo said.

Damon stilled against her and she turned around to see a sad smile crossing his face. “Just like old times.”

Serena glanced back at Jo, whose face reflected a sad poignancy even though she too smiled. She reached out and squeezed Damon’s hand. “Yes, just like old times.”

Then she turned and reached to squeeze Serena’s hand. “Why don’t you let Damon show you around while I set the gumbo back on to warm. I’ll call you two when it’s time to set the table.”

“Still a slave driver, I see,” Damon said.

“Damn right. I cook it. You can at least set the table and clear up afterward.”

He leaned over and brushed a kiss across his mother’s forehead. “With the way you cook, I’m getting the best end of the bargain.”

“You always were a charmer. Just like your father.”

The two exchanged sorrowful glances before Damon took Serena’s elbow and urged her toward the triple-glass French doors that overlooked the deck.

“I’ll take you to see my favorite fishing holes,” he said as he opened the door.

Warm, muggy air stifled Serena’s breathing as she followed Damon outside. It was a good hour before sunset, and the temperature was near its highest point of the day.

“My father built this,” Damon said as he ran his hand along the cedar railing of the porch.

“It’s beautiful.” She observed him for a long moment before biting the bullet and taking the plunge. “I take it your father passed away?”

Damon slowly nodded. “Two years ago. He was fishing.” He turned and pointed to a bend in the bayou. “Right over there. My mother found him slumped over. He had a massive heart attack and died on the spot. He never had a chance.”

She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“He was the best,” Damon said quietly. Though he didn’t overtly acknowledge her gesture, he put his hand over hers and left it there.

“You haven’t been home since?” she asked. He appeared to be so close to his mother. It seemed odd that he’d stay away so long.

A sad, weary look entered his eyes, dulling them to a drab brown. “No. I tried. But it was too painful. I got all the way to the driveway, and I turned around and drove back to Houston. Pretty cowardly.”

He moved to the railing and rested both hands on the wood, leaning out over it as he stared over the cypress clogged bayou. “It hurt my mom. I knew it, but still, I couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face being here without him.”

“Why now?” she asked softly. Why with her?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve missed my mom. I’ve needed to face her, this house. Needed to realize that my staying away doesn’t alter the fact that he’s gone. And maybe it seemed easier with you.”

She inhaled sharply, unable to control her surprise at his statement.

He touched her cheekbone then slid his hand behind her head and pulled her toward him. She rocked against him as he tilted her upward to meet his kiss.

It was gentle, it was soft. In a word, it was exquisite. It shook her to her core.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered against her lips. “It means a lot.”

She smiled as she drew away. “I’m glad you wanted me with you.”

He took her to the banks of the bayou and they watched the catfish surface as if expecting to be fed.

“My mom feeds them every evening,” he explained. “They’re spoiled rotten.”

They continued along the edge as it wound through the rolling terrain of his mother’s property. A rickety dock was situated in the crook of one of the bends, and an old johnboat was tied up. It rocked gently with the ripples of the water. The green paint was faded and peeling. Stenciled with black paint on the side was
Roche
.

“My father’s boat,” Damon said. “It belonged to his grand-father. Old as Methuselah but it still runs. Mom takes it out every now and again just to keep it going.”

“She misses him too,” Serena said, remembering the sadness in her eyes.

Damon sighed. He turned to face the water and shoved his hands into his pockets. For a long moment he was silent. His lips moved as though he had difficulty forming the words.

“It was hard on her and even harder when I stayed away even though she understood.”

He glanced down at his feet, and his shoulders sagged.

“It was selfish of me and it’s something I regret. They were . . . they were so in love. They were high school sweethearts, and she married him when she was sixteen. Folks around here didn’t give them a chance of lasting or ever amounting to anything, but they proved them wrong. He built this house for mom when she was pregnant with me. I grew up here. It’s the only home I ever knew.”

He smiled and glanced sideways at Serena. “My father made his fortune and retired early. He and mom were supposed to travel. Have fun. Live and love and enjoy life. He died just a week after they returned from a trip to Paris. It was where my mother had dreamed of traveling since she was a girl.”

Serena blinked away the tears that stung her eyelids. “At least they got one last trip together before he passed,” she said.

Damon nodded. “We all had some good times together. For so long it hurt to think about them, to remember life with Dad knowing he wasn’t here anymore. But now . . . now it just feels good to remember.”

She reached out, caught his wrist and pulled his hand from his pocket. She laced her fingers through his and tugged his hand to her side.

They both turned when they heard Jo calling to them. She was standing on the deck waving and motioning them to supper.

“Come on. The gumbo’s not as good when it’s cold,” he said.

“Race you,” Serena challenged even as she took off.

“Cheater!” Damon yelled as he pounded after her.

She would have beaten him to the steps, but just as she made the leap, he plucked her from the air and spun her around in his arms. She shrieked in outrage and he responded by dumping her on the ground and following her down to tickle her unmercifully.

When she was wheezing for breath between peals of laughter, he finally stopped and hauled her up.

“Declare me the victor,” he demanded.

“Never!”

She launched herself up the steps then turned around and did an imitation of Rocky, hands in the air as she danced back and forth.

“Little cheat,” he grumbled as he walked past her to the table where his mom waited.

“Damon always was a poor loser,” Jo said as she grinned at Serena. “He was always the most competitive child. Best at everything.”

“And who did I get that from, pray tell?” Damon said dryly.

“Your father, of course.”

Damon snorted and headed toward the door. “You ladies stay here. I’ll be back with bowls and silverware. Want me to bring out the gumbo, Mom?”

“Please,” she said. Then she turned to Serena. “Would you like wine or tea with your dinner?”

“I’ll have whatever you and Damon are having,” Serena said.

“In that case, it’ll be wine. It’s an indulgence of ours. Even during the two years he was gone, he’d call and I’d sit here on the deck and we’d share a glass of wine and talk on the phone.”

“It sounds like you’re very close,” Serena said.

“He’s my only child,” Jo said by way of explanation.

Damon came back out with bowls and spoons then went back in and returned a moment later with a steaming pot of gumbo.

“Get the rice if you don’t mind. It’s in the steamer. And snag the bottle of wine I have laid out,” Jo said as Damon set the pot down.

She and Serena sat and when Damon returned with the rice, Jo served up the gumbo. Though it was hot and muggy, the gumbo, usually more suited for the cold of winter, tasted delicious.

After dinner, they sat back with a glass of wine and watched the lightning bugs pop over the water. In the distance crickets chirped and frogs croaked. The tree locusts added to the cacophony, but it was soothing to Serena. After so long hearing only the sounds of the city, she was lulled by the tranquility here.

“So how long have you two been together and how did you meet?” Jo asked, breaking the silence.

Serena stiffened and sent Damon a panicked glance. He took her hand under the table and squeezed reassuringly.

“We were introduced by a mutual friend. We’ve only been seeing each other a short time, but I’m hoping to convince her to keep me around for a while.”

Jo smiled. “Smooth-talking bastard, just like your father. And they expect you to fall at their feet for their efforts,” she said to Serena.

Serena laughed, her discomfort passing. “I expect they do. And I’ll admit, it does turn my head. As I’ve told him before, he’s no stranger to pretty words.”

“Lord no. I swear all the Roche men have the lion’s share of charm and charisma. Sometimes you just have to call bullshit, though.” She winked at Serena as she said the last.

Serena chuckled as Damon rolled his eyes.

“If I have charm, it sure as hell never worked on you,” Damon said to Jo. “And it damn sure never got me out of trouble.”

Jo grinned. “You have your father to blame for that. By the time you came along, I was well acquainted with the Roche silver tongue and had built an immunity.”

She turned to Serena. “What about you, Serena? Where are you from and what do your folks do?”

Damon looked curiously at her as well, and she realized that they’d never really talked about her. Or him for that matter, until the trip over. They’d been too busy talking with other parts of their anatomy.

She flushed slightly and looked away from Damon. “I was born and raised in Houston. My dad is retired from an oil company, and my mom still teaches school. I’m an only child as well.”

“Ah, then you and Damon are both likely spoiled rotten,” Jo said.

“I don’t deny it,” Damon said as he sipped at his wine.

“Good damn thing. I’d hate to be sitting close to you when that lightning bolt descends.”

Serena laughed again, enjoying the easy rapport between mother and son. It made her miss her own parents, though it hadn’t been that long since she’d last visited. It was easy to get caught up in work, become too busy to pick up the phone or stop in to say hello. After witnessing Damon and Jo’s grief over losing Damon’s father, she was going to make it a priority to see her folks as soon as she got back. Life was short. Damon’s father’s sudden passing was certainly a testament to that.

“My mom is great,” Serena said, suddenly compelled to talk about her own parents. “I probably was spoiled, but she raised me to be independent. To think and do for myself. She was one of nine children, and the only one to graduate high school. She put herself through college and got her teaching degree. I was always so proud of her. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone.”

“Sounds like my kind of lady,” Jo said.

“I think you’d get along well,” Serena said with a smile.

“And what do you do?” Jo asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“This isn’t an interrogation, Mom,” Damon said mildly.

“No, it’s okay,” Serena said. For a long time she had felt discomfort over explaining her business to other people. But the happiness she brought her clients quickly removed any unease she felt over the legitimacy of Fantasy Incorporated.