by Laura Leone
Nick blinked.
“What I mean is, maybe after the shop closes tonight, we could...” Diana shrugged. “I don’t know. Have dinner or something?”
He stared at her, desire warring with integrity.
“Nick, does the thought of eating dinner with me repulse you, or has Ishtar got your tongue?” she asked impatiently.
He had to make a decision, he realized. A split-second decision, and it had to be the right one. He had to choose between the most fateful feeling he’d ever known and the professionalism that was already in serious question.
“Nick?” she prodded.
“I, uh—”
There was a sudden clanging behind him. Saved by the door bell!
Nick whirled to face the newcomer. “Mrs. Bouvier!” He leaped forward to welcome her with exuberance.
The plump, pretty-faced woman fluffed her ultra-blond hair and smiled. “Why, Diana, this gentleman of yours makes an old frump like me feel like the belle of the ball again.”
Considering that Mrs. Bouvier possessed the best wardrobe, cosmetics, and jewelry that money could buy, Diana thought the term “frump” was a transparent attempt to win a compliment from the “gentleman.” But it worked.
“Girls half your age wish they could be so eye-catching, ma’am,” Nick said gallantly.
After a few more such exchanges, Diana realized this could go on indefinitely if she didn’t put a stop to it. Nick sure knew how to coat a well-used compliment with plenty of flirtatious charm to make it go down quick and easy. Since Felix still hadn’t come downstairs, she picked up the phone and called the apartment.
Nick kept up a steady stream of conversation with Mrs. Bouvier while he tried to think of a way to get her alone, so he could question her, subtly but thoroughly, about her consultations with Felix. The sooner he could close this case, the sooner he could come clean with Diana. And then they’d do a lot more than just have dinner together, he promised himself.
He had another scare when Mrs. Bouvier said he seemed familiar, that she thought she had seen him somewhere else. He assured her that she hadn’t, because he would surely remember that. Then he switched the subject back to her plans for her daughter’s twenty-first birthday party, still wondering how to get the lady alone so he could question her.
After a few minutes on the telephone, Diana slammed down the receiver. Nick and Mrs. Bouvier looked at her curiously.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Bouvier,” Diana said. “Felix overslept. It’s so rare for him, I never even bothered to check on him when I got up this morning. He won’t be down for twenty minutes.”
“Hunting up old incarnations for a chat must be pretty tiring,” Nick said with a straight face.
Diana gave him a look of dislike before saying, “I have to leave. I have an early appointment.”
“Where are you going?” Nick asked. It was unusual for her to go anywhere so early in the day.
“I’m having my legs waxed.” She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to say something else. “No. Don’t start with me. Can you attend to Mrs. Bouvier until Felix comes down? I should be back by the time we open for regular business.”
Nick kept his tone lighthearted. “Sure. No problem. It’ll be a pleasure.”
“It certainly will be,” Mrs. Bouvier added with a girlish smile.
Feeling a bit like a third wheel, Diana picked up her handbag, nodded to them both, and left the shop.
“How could I resist twenty minutes alone with such a charming lady?” Nick said to Mrs. Bouvier.
“Well, now, young man, what shall we talk about?”
It was enough to make you believe in karma, Nick reflected.
Chapter Five
THE LOVERS: TRUMP VI
Major Arcana
Meaning: A choice of temptations; sexual and spiritual love; yang and yin.
Reversed: Sundered relationships; quarrels; disharmony.
Despite a very busy day at the shop, Nick persuaded Diana to let him off work early. He made up an excuse. He was bursting with eagerness to talk to Peter and didn’t want to wait any longer.
He walked down to the bottom of Canal Street, boarded the ferry, and, after arriving in Algiers, walked the rest of the way to the offices of Tremain and Lowery Investigations.
When he reached the restored old building that housed their agency, he climbed the stairs to the second floor, swung open the tall wooden door with its stained glass window, gave his most flirtatious smile to Mrs. Milne, and inquired, “How’s the sexiest woman in Algiers?”
“Missing the sexiest man,” she replied with straight-faced crispness. “When will you be done with the Stewart case?”
“Looks like I’m all done now, in fact. Is Peter in?”
She nodded, and he knocked briefly at his partner’s office door before entering.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Peter asked. “Isn’t it time for your tea reading?”
“I got Mrs. Bouvier all to myself for nearly a half hour this morning,” Nick informed him, enjoying the first peace of mind he’d known for days.
“Excellent,” said Peter. “What did you find out?”
Nick flopped into a chair near Peter’s desk. “She pays Felix his usual hourly consultation fee and sees him once a week—more often if she’s troubled about something. He knows a great deal about her personal concerns, but never offers specific advice. She says she found his cryptic comments annoying at first—and I can definitely relate to that—but now she understands how to apply his deep and meaningful observations to her everyday life. He has never accepted any money from her other than his standard consultation fees, he never advises her about financial affairs, and he has never urged her to make payments, loans, or donations to anyone.”
“In other words, he’s clean.”
“Yes,” said Nick. “There’s also nothing between them that resembles, er, courtship. He’s strictly her spiritual advisor. Whatever you or I or Claude may think of astrology and tarot readings, Felix is sincere and running an honest business.”
“You sound relieved.”
“I like the old guy,” Nick admitted. “He’s pretty weird, but you’ll never meet anyone nicer.”
“So let’s close the case.”
“Agreed. I’ll have Mrs. Milne give Claude Bouvier a call and set up an appointment.”
“What are you going to say?” Peter asked.
“That Felix isn’t an opportunist and that, within the definitions of his profession, he’s certainly not a fraud. And although Mrs. Bouvier has a bit of a crush on him, he has expressed only professional interest in her. We can’t get dirt on someone who’s clean.” Nick shrugged. “That’s it. You start writing the report tonight. I’ll finish it first thing in the morning.”
“Wait a minute. Why can’t you start writing the report tonight, if the case is closed?” Peter demanded.
“Because Diana Stewart asked me out to dinner, and I haven’t given her an answer yet.”
“Ah,” Peter said.
“Actually,” Nick said uncomfortably, “we’ve had kind of a tense day, and it’s going to take a while to calm her down after I tell her why I’ve really been hanging around the House of Ishtar.”
“Since when is calming down former suspects part of the job?”
Nick shrugged. Then he shifted in his chair. “I like her a lot, Pete.”
There was a long silence. Peter studied Nick with amusement while Nick tried to look casual.
“Okay,” Peter said at last, relenting. “See you tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Nick checked his messages on the way out, then began the journey back to the French Quarter. Following a hunch—Felix would have called it precognition—he stopped at a drugstore on his way back. He wasn’t sure what inspired his purchase there, unless it was the fervent hope that he and Diana would celebrate to the fullest his successfully clearing her and Felix of suspicion.
As he slipped a few discreetly wrapped packe
ts into his pocket, he had a vivid mental image of the look on Diana’s face when she had drawn The Lovers from Felix’s tarot deck. He smiled. She believed more than she’d admit, he was sure of it.
As far as he was concerned, though, it was just coincidence that the cards had correctly predicted they’d soon become lovers.
“I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner,” Felix told Diana as she closed the shop that evening.
“Why not?” She glanced up from the money she was counting and felt a touch of alarm. “What’s wrong?”
Felix looked uncharacteristically agitated and worried. “I’m not sure.” He wrung his hands and shrugged, pacing back and forth in front of her.
“Did something upset you?” she asked in concern. Despite his placid, withdrawn nature, Felix was capable of great emotional distress in the face of cruelty or violence.
“There’s something terribly wrong. My skills are being tested, and I’m failing.”
“What?” Diana said in astonishment. She took Felix’s arm and tried to make him sit down, but he was restless and resisted.
“The cards are making strange configurations I don’t understand. My peace of mind is crumbling.”
“Can you tell me what kind of configurations?” she asked, wondering if it was confidential—or perhaps too confusing for Felix to relate.
He shook his head. “No.” He frowned briefly and came to a sudden decision. “I’m going to see Jora.”
“Oh, Felix, it’s getting late,” Diana protested. Jora Lemon, a well-known psychic and close friend of Felix’s, lived in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in New Orleans. “I don’t want you wandering around down there in the dark.”
“If I leave now and take a cab, I’ll be all right. It’s not late yet.”
“But how will you get home when it is late?”
“Jora will put me up for the night. She has a spare room.”
Diana didn’t feel much better about that idea, but Felix had clearly made up his mind. “All right. But be very careful, and don’t leave her house until it’s light out.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Felix promised. He pushed the front door open to leave.
“Shouldn’t you call her first?”
“Jora will know I’m coming.”
“I guess so,” Diana said uneasily. Sometimes she still thought it would be nice to have a father who built chairs or fixed toilets for a living, a father whose friends and associates all hung out in this dimension.
Diana finished closing up the shop, wondering where Nick was while she went about her duties. Of course, he didn’t need to account to her for the time he spent off the premises. And she had to admit he had spent very little time away since she had hired him.
But his absence was as noticeable as his presence. She missed him when he wasn’t there.
Things had been decidedly uncomfortable between them all day. It was humiliating to tell a man you’d like to go out with him, only to be answered by a blank-faced stare. She supposed the men she had turned down in the past had suffered that same embarrassment, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Nick had been so distracted and so eager to leave early, she wondered if he was considering quitting.
What was so infuriating about it was that he was the one who had initially come on to her. Not that she had exactly resisted him—but what gave him the right to turn off like a cold-water tap as soon as she admitted she was interested?
“Urgh,” she grunted. Having finished tidying up the shop, she climbed the stairs to her yoga studio to prepare it for class the following morning.
Well, whether or not Nick quit, she certainly wasn’t going to throw herself at him again, she decided, while she furiously ran the dust mop across the floor. She glanced down the well-lit hallway to where the door of his bedroom stood open.
He was clearly a man with secrets, anyhow. Hadn’t she known that from the first? Hadn’t she originally told herself it would be silly to get interested in an employee living right under her roof?
I want him, oh, I want him...
“Stop that,” she muttered aloud. She stuck her mop through an open window and banged it against the sill with resounding force.
“Take it easy,” Nick said from the doorway.
“Yah!” Diana whirled to face him, pointing the mop like a weapon. “Oh, my God!” she panted. “You scared me to death!”
“Sorry,” he said, looking confused.
“What are you doing, sneaking around in the dark?” she snapped.
Nick looked around at the bright hallway and cheerfully lighted studio. He had let the stairwell door swing shut behind him with its usual clatter and walked up the stairs without any particular stealth. “What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.
“Nothing.” She turned her back on him and recommenced mopping the floor with a vengeance. She wasn’t going to let him know that she’d been unaware of someone approaching because she was so wrapped up in thoughts of him.
Nick sauntered into the room and leaned against one mirrored wall. He folded his arms and tilted his head to one side as he watched Diana work as if possessed by a demon—or as if a demon were after her.
What now? he wondered. This was about the most unapproachable she had ever seemed. He stood there for a while, considering and then rejecting various ways of explaining his real identity. At one point she hit his foot with the dust mop and stared stonily at it until he moved out of her way.
Coherent explanations would apparently have to wait, he decided. This clearly wasn’t the time to admit to her that he had been lying all along.
“Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked.
She stopped dead in her tracks. “What?” It was not an inviting monosyllable.
“You did ask me out to dinner, didn’t you?”
Diana slowly straightened all the way up. She met his gaze with vibrant green eyes. At that moment, they looked as unfriendly as Ishtar’s. “I said maybe we could give it a try.”
“Don’t play with words. You invited me out, and I’m not letting you off the hook.”
Her eyes widened with a sudden flash of temper. “Oh, really? Then why did you stare at me like I was speaking Swahili when I mentioned it this morning?”
“I’m not a morning person.”
“You just stood there blinking at me like I had suggested we spend the evening strangling baby rabbits,” she accused, warming to her subject.
“Ah,” he said. “Felix warned me about this.”
“About what?” she demanded.
“Leo has a quick temper, very little patience, and a lot of pride.”
“Don’t start quoting Felix at me.”
“It’s funny when things work out like that though, isn’t it?” Nick mused. “You’re fiery, I’m passionate. You’re imaginative, I’m a sensualist. You’re creative, I’m determined. Just think of the possibilities.”
When he saw that she was relaxing, that a tiny smile curved her soft full lips, that her hands had released their death grip on the mop, he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered toward her. Her strawberry-blond hair tumbled around her face, looking soft and luxuriant. She wore an Indian-gauze dress that moved with a life of its own, clinging alluringly in some places, subtly hinting at the curvaceous mystery of others.
However, it was probably the softening of her expressive eyes that made him forget about everything else and think only of needing to be closer to her.
Diana sensed the moment Nick’s whole mood and intent changed. Between one step and the next, the situation had become serious. How could a man be so exasperatingly flirtatious in one moment, then melt her with sensuality in the next?
The rich blue of his eyes darkened, and his black lashes drooped low, partially hiding their expression. He moved with the predatory grace she had noticed before. When he was standing so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, he whispered, “Where’s Felix?”
She li
cked her lips, knowing what the answer would mean to him. This was the moment to make her choices. Then one hand came up to stroke the moist softness of her lower lip. She saw his nostrils flare, saw the sudden tensing of his jaw, and her power to excite him thrilled her with a sudden rush of beat.
She had worked side by side with this man, laughed with him, appreciated his patience with her father, enjoyed his company, and tasted ecstasy on his lips. So what more did she want before she decided to make love with him? A written guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt her? A dossier on his life before they met? Reference letters from his past relationships, assuring her he was trustworthy?
Actually, she would like all that. But she was unlikely to get any of it; and he was standing here now in the flesh. Very much in the flesh, she realized, as his fingers traced an excruciatingly slow path over her chin and down her throat toward her breasts. He made a slight detour to capture a few strands of her hair in his hand, which he touched as though they were made of spun gold.
“Where’s Felix?” he repeated huskily.
She held his gaze. “He’s gone out. He won’t be back until morning.”
Nick’s lips curved into a smile and his breath touched her face in a soft puff of amusement. “It’s almost enough to make you believe in destiny.”
“He’s agitated,” Diana said. “So he’s gone to see a psychic.”
“Naturally.” Nick ran his knuckles under her chin, then slipped his fingertips under the neckline of her dress to stroke her collarbone. Diana could feel her insides begin to quiver with excitement. His gaze roved over her hair, face, and shoulders. “Alone at last,” he murmured wryly.
The sound of her own breath filled her ears, and her breasts rose and fell in a smooth, rapid rhythm. Had she ever really noticed before how beautifully dark his hair was, how taut and graceful his body? “No astrology lesson tonight, I guess.” Her voice was breathless, the words she’d just spoken rich with anticipation.
He smiled as he placed both hands on her shoulders and drew her closer. For a heart-speeding moment she thought he would kiss her; then he rested his forehead against hers and spoke. “Do you really want to go out for dinner?”