Mischief and Magnolias by Marie Patrick

hand, but he said nothing, simply nodded briefly then went back to his letter, his pen scratching out the words Remy suspected were to his wife.
    He pushed open the swinging door between dining room and kitchen quietly and found the object of his search. She stood in profile, wispy tendrils of glossy mahogany hair brushing her flushed cheek. He caught a glimpse of the long, slender column of her throat exposed by the open collar of her blouse and the thrust of her breasts beneath the cotton, which expanded as she breathed. He said nothing, mesmerized by her beauty, and simply watched Shaelyn pour cake batter into round pans then lick the creamy concoction from the spoon.
    In an instant, his body responded. Seeing her small, pink tongue against the bowl of the spoon had his belly tightening, his heart rate picking up its pace. Blood surged through his veins, resulting in an almost painful arousal that pushed against the fabric of his trousers.
    He shook himself, tamped down the rampant desire shuttling through him, and said, “Good morning.”
    Shaelyn jumped, startled, and whirled around, the spoon still in her mouth. A lovely blush stained her face, making her incredible eyes glow as she glanced down at his feet then back up to his face. The blush deepened, rising up from her chest to encompass the soft flesh of her throat.
    “Planning to put broken glass in that?”
    She swallowed, the muscles in her neck moving. “I wouldn’t waste chocolate like that, Major.”
    He took a step closer. Despite the lingering aromas of coffee, grits, and sausage, Shaelyn’s alluring, seductive perfume reached his nose. Remy inhaled and let the scent fill him as he took another step toward her.
    She watched him come closer. No fear sparkled in those hypnotizing eyes. Humor? Most certainly, but no anxiety, no panic or fright. The corner of her mouth twitched, as if she tried not to smile, and his heart pounded a little faster in his chest.
    My God, she is beautiful!
    She didn’t move, although her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Her mouth parted, her small, pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. If he took one more step, he could sweep her into his arms, press her body close to his, and touch the lips that spread so generously into an innocent smile.
    Remy took that step…
    Just as Brenna swept into the kitchen, fresh herbs clutched in her hand. Shaelyn’s eyes widened as he gave a guilty start. His face heated beneath her direct stare and he moved away from Shaelyn, who hadn’t moved at all. She still held the spoon in her hand, although now the metal seemed to be misshapen. Had she clutched it so hard she’d bent it?
    “May I help you, Major?” Brenna asked. “Did you wish for something special for breakfast this morning?”
    “No, ma’am. I was just…I mean…I…”
Good God, I’m stammering like a schoolboy!
    Brenna raised an eyebrow in question as her gaze drifted to the boots in his hand. “Major, shouldn’t your boots be on your feet?”
    “They should, ma’am, however, I seem to have a problem.”
    The corners of Brenna’s mouth lifted as her gaze went from the boots to his face, then finally settled on her daughter. “And what is the problem?”
    “You might want to ask Shae.”
    Brenna slowly shook her head. “I’m almost afraid to, Major.” Humor tinged her voice as if she already knew what mischief her daughter had participated in, but to her credit, she did not smile. Her eyes, however, snapped with laughter. “In fact, I don’t think I will. You and Shaelyn will have to work this out yourselves. However you see fit.”
    “But Mama—” Shaelyn glared at her mother, but Brenna held up her hand, stopping whatever argument the girl could send her way. “Yes, ma’am,” she muttered, but she didn’t hang her head in contrition or apology. Oh no, not Shaelyn Cavanaugh. She stood tall, her head held high, her eyes glittering.
    Remy thought for a moment as he studied her and tried to