Free Love Is Lovelier by Jean Brashear Page B

belonged to a man who had confronted life, head-on, and had done his best to wrest everything possible from it. He’d never flinched from reality, had made her acknowledge it, as well, time and again. Don’t look through the eyes of your fear, ma belle. See what is and deal with it.
    Oh, Remy . Tears gathered in her eyes. I am afraid. Afraid to love him because it means letting you go.
    She sat there quietly, clutching his picture to her breast, weeping tears she thought she’d exhausted long ago, for the man who’d been her first love, her long love, what she’d believed was her forever love.
    But William’s face kept popping up, the blue eyes both kind and commanding. The visage that of an older man, something Remy would never be.
    See what is and deal with it.
    So she held on to Remy’s picture for courage and dared to think of another man. And found the end of her tears…the lightness that followed the storm of them.
    William’s face was a strong one, less angular perhaps than the young man she’d known, but more compelling with the power inherent in someone who has found his place in the world. He was forceful, yes, but not humorless—far from it. Laugh lines fanned out from his eyes and around his mouth. His features were carved by time and battle; he’d fought in an arena she could only imagine and emerged victorious. That he was not ruthless with her, when he was obviously a man who obtained whatever he really wanted, was to his credit.
    Then she was forced to smile. Okay, he was a little ruthless, but he was also gentle into the mix. Determined but thoughtful, and had shown more understanding of her dilemma than she had of his.
    All right, you…Cajun , she thought with the affectionate epithet she’d thrown at Remy often. You win. I’ll give love another chance .
    She pressed a kiss to his picture, but, instead of replacing it by her bedside where she’d moved it for comfort after his death, she returned it to its original spot on the shelves in the living room.
    Then, finally sleepy, she climbed into her bed.
    And out again as an idea occurred to her. With a smile, she set the alarm.
    She owed William an apology for the detour she’d forced in his plans tonight.
    In the morning, she would make a start on finding their way back.

    F RESH FROM THE SHOWER , William lifted a cup of his housekeeper’s excellent coffee—leaded this time, as opposed to last night’s decaf—and took a grateful sip. He hadn’t slept well. “You are a goddess, Estelle.”
    She flicked a dish towel at him. “Oh, go on with you, Mr. William. You’re too easy. Sit down, and I’ll have your breakfast finished in a jiff. That Bo is ready to walk.”
    “Always is.” He settled in with the morning’s paper, but his thoughts were troubled over more than last night’s rocky date with Anne, though that was concern enough.
    He replayed yesterday’s meeting with Glen and didn’t like the results any better now. He’d always been an excellent judge of people; the success of his organization was testament to his ability to select the cream of the crop as employees.
    Glen was one of those, handpicked to succeed William at some point. He was sharp and savvy and driven, much as William himself had been. Had his argument concerned any other hotel property, William would have agreed with Glen’s assessment completely.
    But this was Anne’s hotel, and every moment spent in her presence only reinforced what a blow the loss of it would be to her.
    Glen’s value to Regency Corp., however, lay in his ability to divorce himself completely from emotion and consider only the effect on the company’s bottom line. He’d been right to jump on Judith’s concept of melding the two properties together. William’s daughter was proving herself to be every bit as bright and promising as he ever could have hoped.
    But without bringing Anne—and his hopes for their future—into the picture, William could not expect to garner Glen’s or