Page 46 of Midnight at the Magnolia

We’re silent for a moment, the air between us charged with unspoken emotions. Finally, I clear my throat. “So, um, if you weren’t an FBI agent, what would you be?”

Ethan’s face lights up. “A chef,” he says without hesitation. “I’ve always loved cooking. It’s like solving a puzzle, but with flavors instead of clues.”

“Well, based on this meal, I’d say you missed your calling,” I tease, gesturing to our empty plates.

“High praise from a New Orleans native,” he grins. “What about you? If you weren’t serving coffee and solving crimes on the side, what would you do?”

I pause, considering. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about a life beyond my mission. “I think... I’d like to be a writer,” I say slowly. “Tell stories that make people feel something.”

“I bet you’d be amazing at it,” Ethan says softly. “You certainly have a way with words.”

Our eyes meet, and suddenly the room feels too small, too warm. The ticking clock fades away, replaced by the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. For a moment, I forget about the case, about my secrets, about everything except the man in front of me.

“Ethan,” I breathe, not sure what I’m going to say next.

He leans in, his lips just inches from mine. “Yes, Celeste?”

And in that moment, balanced on the knife’s edge between desire and duty, I make a choice that will change everything.

I want to keep him. For all the selfish reasons.I want to keep him.

The ticking of a nearby clock seems to grow louder, each second a reminder that time is running out.

Like Grandma always said,“Even the sweetest bloom must eventually fade.”

But looking at Ethan across the candlelit table, I’m not ready for this moment to end, dangerous as it might be.

The line between hunter and hunted has never felt more blurred.

Ethan studies me across the table, and I can see the exact moment his investigator’s mask slips. The candlelight softens his features, but his eyes burn with an intensity that makes my breath catch. Like oleander in full bloom - beautiful, deadly, irresistible.

“Celeste,” he breathes my name like a prayer, or maybe a confession. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Grandma’s voice echoes in my head:“Love’s the most powerful poison of all, child. Once it takes root, there’s no cure.”

The war within me reaches a fever pitch, love and guilt battling for supremacy. Like nightshade and morning glory fighting for the same patch of soil.

In that moment, as I look into Ethan’s eyes, I make a decision that I know will either save me or damn me.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” I whisper back. The words feel both foreign and achingly right on my tongue, like tasting a new herb and recognizing its power immediately.

It isn’t a lie. And that’s what makes it so dangerous.

I meet his lips, which are soft and searching at first, then increasingly passionate. The taste of wine and tiramisu mingles as we kiss, creating an intoxicating blend that reminds me of Grandma’s most potent brews. As we continue, I feel myself being pulled under, drowning in the intensity of my feelings for him. The world narrows to just this—the softness of his lips, the warmth of his hands on my waist, the racing of my heart.

Like kudzu claiming a tree, we’re becoming hopelessly entangled. Each touch, each kiss, each shared breath weaves us tighter together. Part of me wants to run, remembering Grandma’s warnings about letting anyone this close. But a larger part wants to stay, to let this beautiful poison work its way through my system.

The city plays its nightly symphony outside - jazz mixing with distant laughter, sirens wailing in the distance. But in here, in this moment, there’s only us. Two predators circling each other, both knowing we’re dancing with danger but unable to stop.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, Ethan’s eyes are shining. The brown in them seems more vibrant than ever,flecked with gold in the candlelight. Like sun through cypress leaves, dappled and dangerous.

“I want you,” he says simply, his voice rough with desire.

And God help me, I want him too. Even knowing this could destroy everything I’ve worked for. Even knowing that love between hunter and hunted never ends well.

And I will never allow that to happen.

Ethan’s eyes soften at my words, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. The rough calluses on his palm send a shiver down my spine. “You’re something else, Celeste Deveraux,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheekbone.

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