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into the bayou and got so wrapped up in watching the frogs and the turtles that he forgot the time. But lately he’d done it more and more often, which meant he was probably spending time with Darcy again.
    But Marjo couldn’t worry about that now. It seemed all her months of hard work on the opera house were going to come to naught. And she was concerned about Hugh. Perhaps he was ill or had fallen asleep early.
    As she started walking back to her house, enjoying the night songs of the bayou creatures, she decided to stop by Hugh’s to check on him. He lived alone and was one of those stubborn men who believed a few onions could solve any ill.
    As she turned down the road to Hugh’s place, she saw Paul Clermont approaching.
    “Marjo,” he said, coming up beside her. “What are you doing out on Indigo’s streets so late?”
    The image of the camellias he’d given her, sitting in a vase in the center of her kitchen table, came to mind, softening her as easily as they had when he’dput them in her hands. “I’m checking on a friend. Actually, he co-chairs the restoration committee with me. He didn’t come to tonight’s meeting and I’m a little worried about him.”
    “Do you want some company?” Paul asked.
    She looked up at him, but in the darkness of evening and the small pool of light from the street-lamp, she couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or just teasing her.
    She opted for sincerity. “Actually, I would.”
    He pivoted, then fell into stride beside her, close enough that she could catch the scent of his woodsy cologne, feel the heat emanating from his body. “I’d like a little company tonight, too, and who better than a woman who would rather see me on another planet?”
    She laughed. “You don’t have to go that far. Another country is fine.”
    He returned the laughter. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way to Tibet soon, for another assignment.”
    Right this second, the thought of jetting off to the Far East didn’t hold the same excitement for Paul that it usually did. Maybe it was the clear night air, or maybe it was just the woman beside him, who drove him crazy and intrigued him in equal parts.
    Marjo Savoy was the last person Paul had expected to run into on the streets of Indigo at this time of night. He’d been out for a moonlit walk, something he’d done more and more lately when he found himself unable to sleep.
    “Funny how I keep running into you,” she said.
    “Yep, I keep showing up, like a bad penny.”
    “Or a hungry raccoon.” She gave him a grin. “I will admit, you have a certain charm. I’m sure many women have fallen for it.”
    “But not you, right?”
    “Sorry. It takes more than a quick wit and a nice smile to win me over.”
    “Oh, so you’ve noticed my smile?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Only because you keep showing it off.”
    Truth be told, she had noticed his smile, and a heck of a lot more, particularly since that kiss. In fact, Paul Clermont had lingered in the back of her mind, his image teasing at her, tempting her to revisit unfinished business.
    Business that didn’t have one thing to do with the opera house.
    Paul chuckled. “I’ll try to be more dour around you then.”
    She laughed, a light, happy sound that for a second caught him off guard. Paul almost told a joke, just to hear her laugh again. But then he remembered their differences about the opera house, and knew kissing her again seemed like a mistake.
    “Tell me about Indigo,” he said.
    “What do you want to know?”
    “I hear you’re the resident historian. Estelle at the diner told me you’re so good, you’d clean house if there was ever a Louisiana Jeopardy. ”
    “Actually, that title goes to Hugh Prejean. I’ve just heard so many of his stories, and worked with him going through old records, that I can tell you almost anything about Indigo.”
    “First question, fifty points. Where did the name come from?”
    “That’s an easy one. Indigo grew up around a