Sweet Southern Comfort

  “You call me a cheat and then you kiss me? Am I supposed to be flattered?” Melanie demanded.

  “Do you think I like this…this attraction that’s between us? I know you feel it as much as I do. Let’s not play games. You want me as much as I want you,” Monroe said.

  “You can’t call me dishonest, think negative things about me and expect me to welcome your advances. I don’t play that game.”

  “Do you think I like the way you’ve intrigued me from the moment I met you?”

  Monroe massaged the tense muscles in his neck and for a moment he studied her intently. He was mesmerized by the fiery, angry look in her eyes. He wanted to see her brown eyes blaze with a completely opposite emotion. He wanted…

  “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

  Before she could respond, he opened the door and disappeared into the night.

  CANDICE POARCH,

  a nationally bestselling author, fell in love with writing stories centered around romance and families many years ago. She feels the quest for love is universal. She portrays a sense of community and mutual support in her novels.

  Candice grew up in Stony Creek, Virginia, south of Richmond, but now resides in northern Virginia. Married twenty-nine years, she is a mother of three children. A former computer systems manager, she has made writing her full-time career, and she loves to hear from readers. Please visit her Web site at www.candicepoarch.net or write to her at P.O. Box 291, Springfield, VA 22150.

  Candice Poarch

  Sweet Southern Comfort

  Dear Reader,

  Sweet Southern Comfort is a story of mending fences, second opportunities and family feuds. Caught in the drama of a feud, children grow up afraid to form friendships, and adults are forced to live in the past. Even though living in a community with underlying tension can warp relationships, special friendships still cross the barrier. It takes Melanie and Monroe, both outsiders, to see the feud from both perspectives, but it takes much more for two hardheaded families to make peace.

  Sweet Southern Comfort grew from my desire to write a story around two feuding families. Take a trip with me as we watch a community abandon the past to embrace the present.

  Candice Poarch

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 1

  Melanie Lambert’s gorgeous backside was pointed in the air as she shoved books onto a shelf. Through a glass-plated door, Monroe Bedford got a clear view of black slacks molded to her butt. Her short aqua top revealed a sliver of smooth brown skin at her lower back.

  His hand gripped the door handle and he bit down the rage burning a hole in his gut.

  He’d rather climb the Himalayas than go in Melanie’s bookstore, and he hated heights. But his stubborn grandmother had insisted he remind Melanie to bring some books to the rehabilitation center where she was recovering from a stroke. Every time Monroe asked for the names of the books, she’d only say “Melanie knows.” From the moment he’d discovered Melanie was cheating his clueless grandmother, the very thought of her name set his back teeth on edge.

  Swinging the door open, he crossed the threshold into the depths of what others might call a cheerful and inviting shop.

  Melanie was standing in the section labeled Romance. His throat squeezed. When had that lead to anything but trouble? Women used their guile to paint an illusion, successfully drawing men like moths to their burning flames.

  Melanie rose upright and her thick sable hair fell into place. With a welcoming smile, she glanced his way, her brown eyes meeting his. Before he could catch himself, her warmth tugged at him. Dull anger burned brighter in his brain and unwelcome fires of lust glowed in his veins. No wonder his grandmother was so easily conned.

  “Welcome back,” Melanie said.

  Monroe nodded. “My grandmother said you’re holding books for her. She asked me to get them.”

  “They’re behind the counter. How is she?” Melanie asked, taking quick strides to the cash register.

  “Improving,” Monroe responded without elaborating.

  “I was going to take the books to her this evening when I visited.”

  “Her doctor is limiting visitors so she’ll have more time for therapy. How much?” he said tightly, wanting to get the heck out of there and away from her mesmerizing smile as quickly as he could.

  Frowning, she placed the books in a colorful bag and added coordinating tissue paper. “They’re gifts.”

  “I’ll pay for them.” He took a soft calfskin wallet out of his back pocket.

  “No, no. They’re gifts from my daughter and me.”

  “I insist.” His gaze touched hers and held. The Bedfords weren’t going to owe her one copper penny. “How much?” he asked again. He glared at her. The way she and the shopkeepers were cheating his grandmother bordered on the criminal.

  With a questioning look, Melanie added up the cost of the books and gave him a total.

  “Monroe, is anything wrong?” Melanie asked, clearly baffled. But Monroe wasn’t ready to reveal his findings. Not yet. “Is Mrs. Eudora okay?”

  “She’s fine.” He quickly paid and left, well aware that her puzzled gaze followed him.

  Melanie had talked his grandmother into building a small six-unit shopping plaza. Monroe’s architect sister had even designed the units. He’d thought it would be the perfect thing to give his grandmother something to occupy her time without overtaxing her. The woman was always into something, when at her age she should be resting.

  He should have kept closer tabs on his grandmother’s affairs, but with his own nightmarish year, he’d let many things slide. A few days ago she’d asked him to deposit the tenants’ checks into her bank account, and when he’d seen the piddling amount they paid for monthly rent, he was outraged.

  Monroe opened the door to his car and slid onto the soft leather seat. On Monday he’d set up a meeting with her lawyer. One thing was for sure. This thievery wasn’t going to continue. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to convince her to sell every single retail unit before he left town.

  Gazing down Main Street, Monroe twisted the key in the ignition. As soon as the car roared to life, he put it in gear and pointed it out of Summer Lake, South Carolina, and toward the rehabilitation center, a half hour drive away.

  An hour later, Melanie was still mystified over Monroe’s strange and unfriendly behavior when her cousin, Gail Carson, burst into the store. She had the same caramel complexion as Melanie, but stood an inch shorter.

  “Did you hear what happened?” she asked, out of breath.

  “No…”

  “The mayor has been telling everyone Monroe’s going to sell the shopping center.”

  “Village Square?”

  “What other shopping center is there in Summer Lake?”

  Melanie’s heart leaped. “Mrs. Eudora owns it and she’d never sell.”

  “Mrs. Eudora can’t do anything from the sick bed, now can she? Monroe’s taken over. The mayor’s bragging about bringing in some interested buyers who plan to expand.”

  “This makes no sense. Why would Monroe sell? Are you sure it’s not just a rumor? The mayor has been against this place from the get-go.”

  Gail sliced through the air with a dismissive hand. “People with money can do anything they want. They don’t need a logical reason. Mama’s so worried, she’s having heart palpations.” Gail’s green skirt swirled around her legs as she p
aced back and forth. “I spent every dime I had for this place. Even mortgaged my house.”

  Melanie balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. She’d sunk her last penny into Melanie’s Books & Treasures, too, but in a crisis somebody had to be the voice of reason. She could understand his selling if Mrs. Eudora wasn’t going to improve, but she was expected to make almost a full recovery. Besides, Melanie handled all the small shopping center’s problems.

  “Don’t start predicting doom and gloom. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

  They heard raised voices outside and started for the door. Melanie’s uncle, Milton Carson, and Elmore Hicks were arguing in front of the store for all the world to see. Elmore owned the store next door. The men still carried on a feud that should have died out decades ago. Melanie rushed outside.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re going to frighten the customers away.”

  “It’s all his fault,” her uncle Milton said, pointing a finger at Elmore. Elmore shot a disgusted glare at Milton. Neither man paid any attention to Melanie.

  “Come inside my shop,” Melanie demanded. “I don’t have any customers right now.”

  Both men glared at each other before they strode angrily into her store.

  “Why are you fighting?” Melanie asked.

  “It’s his fault,” Uncle Milton bellowed. “His dizzy niece couldn’t keep her skirt down and now we all have to pay.”

  “Leave Monroe’s ex-wife out of this, Dad,” Gail said.

  “You don’t know why he wants to sell,” Elmore said, enraged. “You got no right talking about my family like that.”

  “None of us knows what’s going on right now,” Melanie reminded them. “So don’t start with the accusations. We have more important issues.”

  “Like finding out exactly why he wants to sell and who wants to buy,” Gail said. “We have ten-year leases, so even if he sold, we have our spaces for that long.”

  “Not exactly,” Melanie warned. “If Village Square is sold, the leases are terminated in ninety days unless the buyer chooses to continue them.”

  “How could you agree to a lease like that, Melanie? We trusted you to work out a good deal with Mrs. Eudora.” Elmore growled. Half a foot shorter than Milton, he crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “I’ve put every penny I’ve got in this place.”

  Uncle Milton slammed his fist on the countertop. “Don’t you go blaming Melanie! Every time something goes wrong you blame her. You all but got down on your hands and knees begging her to talk Mrs. Eudora into renting you shop space. Shoulda known better than rent to a Hicks in the first place. It was right there in black and white. Didn’t you read your lease before you signed it?”

  “Daddy, please don’t bring the feud into it.” Gail sent Melanie a here we go again glance, then picked up the fallen books. The feud of 1951 was like a religion with Elmore and Milton.

  The Carsons believed Elmore’s father killed his wife—a Carson—back in 1951. There wasn’t enough evidence to arrest him and the families had been at each other’s throats ever since.

  “We had to agree to the conditions of the lease because we’re all startup businesses. None of us have track records,” Melanie interjected.

  “You’re just going to have to talk to Mrs. Eudora,” Uncle Milton said. “That’s all there is to it.”

  “She isn’t well enough to handle business.” Nobody seemed to notice that Melanie was as worried as they were. She had a child to support. “Monroe told me the doctor restricted her visitors so I can’t get anywhere near her.” Melanie had never been so frustrated. Mrs. Eudora was improving, so she didn’t understand why Monroe wouldn’t let her visit the woman. She’d put so much energy and time into getting the shopping center built. Not to mention the fortune she’d spent on inventory for her store.

  Melanie had hoped to run her store for the rest of her working career. To have it snatched away… She just couldn’t fathom it.

  “He knows she wouldn’t sell to outsiders,” Uncle Milton said, forcing Melanie out of her reverie.

  “You’ve got to convince him not to sell, Melanie,” Gail said.

  “The mayor is already bragging about these new people bringing in name-brand stores. Somebody said they’re going to make it three times bigger and they’re not going to renew our leases. This will bankrupt me,” Uncle Milton said. “You’ve got to do something.”

  “All right. All right. I’ll talk to Monroe as soon as I can.”

  “It’s just plain mean and disrespectful not letting anybody visit her,” Gail said. “Where are his manners? With her family scattered all over the globe, who does he think looks after her?”

  “Melanie, that’s who,” Uncle Milton said heatedly. “And this is a fine way to thank her.” Her uncle patted Melanie’s arm. “Don’t you worry yourself, gal. We’re just letting off steam.” Everyone except Gail shuffled out the door with him.

  For a second Melanie stared at the departing figures. A Carson and a Hicks hadn’t been in the same room without raising fists in fifty-five years. The Carsons had even joined another church, refusing to worship with the Hicks. Could it be that they could unite for a single cause?

  Not likely, Melanie thought. They’d forget about their camaraderie by tomorrow.

  “What are you going to do about the anniversary party?” Gail asked.

  “I told Mrs. Eudora we were going to delay it until she’s better, to give her an incentive to get well quicker.”

  Gail nodded. “You’re so good to that old woman. I better go help Mama. Call me after you talk to Monroe.”

  Melanie focused on the whimsical wind chimes Frank Jackson had made out of glass so delicate the birds, squirrels and frogs appeared to be floating. She needed to order some more. They sold out as quickly as she could stock them.

  She sighed, glancing at the shelves of books and displays. Every time she thought things were going all right, life threw her a curve.

  Melanie turned out the lights and closed up the shop. For a moment she peered inside, studying it the way she hoped a customer would. Huge plates of glass with white and royal-blue borders set off the storefront, with the name Melanie’s Books & Treasures stenciled on the window inviting them inside.

  Finally turning, she strolled across the street to her Cadillac SRX, one of the few luxuries she’d kept after her divorce. She plotted how quickly she could get into a long hot shower, slip under the covers into her bed and, for a little while, forget about all her troubles.

  Melanie turned the key in the ignition. The motor roared to life and settled into a purr. Unfortunately, that hot shower would have to wait. She’d promised her daughter, Courtney, she’d be home by six-thirty to prepare chicken and dumplings—her favorite. Lowering her window, she breathed in the fresh air.

  As Melanie drove the winding country road, the sun started to set and the brilliant orange cast shadows on the surrounding countryside. But thinking about the trouble Monroe and the mayor were causing dulled the beauty.

  What was more, she knew she hadn’t imagined the sharp and intimate spark between herself and Monroe on the day they’d met.

  She first saw him weeks ago when Mrs. Eudora first had the stroke. Back then he was as pleasant as the rest of his family. She remembered their parting at the hospital when he’d taken her elbow and steered her out of the waiting area and into a deserted hallway. A charge zipped up Melanie’s arm and spread through her body.

  He braced a hand on either side of her and her pulse vibrated through her veins. He was standing close enough for her to feel the heat flaming from his body. Her gaze met his—and locked. A strong sensual current passed between them and he stared at her as if he were memorizing every pore. Her heartbeat increased, color stained her cheeks and her insides quivered with excitement as a slow flame burned through her body.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For taking excellent care of my grandmother, and for
your thoughtfulness. The coffee, sandwiches—”

  “—and me?” Melanie laughed, trying to break the sensual haze that gripped her. “Mrs. Eudora means a lot to me.”

  “The sentiment is mutual.”

  “I have to leave,” he said.

  Disappointed, Melanie said, “So soon?”

  “Grandma’s out of danger. Actually she’s much better. They’re moving her to a rehabilitation hospital tomorrow. But you know all that.”

  Melanie nodded.

  “I have to finish up some business back home, but I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

  Melanie nodded again. He gathered her hands in his, tugged her close. Melanie went willingly into his arms.

  “Until I return…” He smoothed her hair back from her face, tilted her chin up with a long forefinger before his mouth came down to claim her. Melanie expected to feel his lips on hers, but he pressed a soft kiss on her cheek. His lips lingered only a second, and as she drew a shaky breath, he kissed her lips with a whispery soft touch. She was shocked by her own eager response.

  Lord, Lord, Lord. She died and went to heaven when his arms closed around her completely, drawing her body into every part of his hard length. He deepened the kiss and she held on to him as raw excitement surged through her system. But much too soon he let her go, and as he walked away, she felt as if part of her heart had been ripped from her.

  He’d changed, and she didn’t understand why.

  But she was going to find out. Tonight.

  Monroe had never thought of his grandmother as frail. Her feisty nature duped people into thinking she was much younger than her eighty-two years. Dressed in a white gown and a pink bed jacket, she’d fallen asleep in a chair beside the bed. The pink brightened her face, but she looked so small…and frail…and every bit her age.

  Until she opened her mouth. God, that woman loved to talk. Even the stroke hadn’t stopped her. Perhaps it was the reason her speech had improved so quickly. Every time he visited, she asked about the “charming” Melanie. Monroe swore beneath his breath, and his grandmother suddenly jerked awake. Her eyes met his and he forced himself to smile.