by Caro LaFever
“At least one of us is.” Nina stepped past the cast iron-and-glass tables, heading for the stage. “He has a huge jazz collection at his home.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Whenever I put on the music, he turns it off.”
“I’m not surprised by that, either.”
“Jazz brings back bad memories?”
“Oui.”
“About his wife.” A scowl crossed her face at the thought of Luc letting another woman influence him from the grave. Especially after years had gone by. “He should be over her.”
“He should. I think he actually is.” Lali eased off the stool to come and stand by her. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Up until now, Nina’s entire goal was to get him into bed again. Then, she figured he’d eventually come to understand their Fate. Except now, now as she stared at the empty stage, with it’s sagging piano and dusty surface, another goal came forward.
She was going to make him forget. Make him see only her.
And the best way to do that was to banish this Genia out of his mind and heart once and for all.
“I’m going to convince him to open this club for the festival.”
“Are you?” One black brow arched, and brown eyes turned dark. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It is. He needs to bring this place back to life, so he’ll come back to life as well.” Surety rang through her as she said the words, and she felt as if Fate was curling inside her, nodding in agreement. “I just have to convince him.”
“If anyone can, it would be you.”
“You think so?” Even though she was sure this was the right thing to do, it still felt good to have this woman’s blessing. After two weeks of dealing with Luc’s cold shoulder, it was wonderful to have someone else believe in them like she did.
Lali nodded slowly as she sank into a nearby chair. “He might be on the run from you, but every time anyone brings up your name, something comes into his eyes.”
“Something?”
The other woman chuckled. “Something like panic—”
“Oh, great.”
“Mixed with need.”
Nina sighed as she sat on the dusty edge of the stage. “I guess I should be happy with that.”
She didn’t try and make her relationships with other people complicated. That was the province of her papa, who tended to see complexity in everything and tried his best to make it worse. As a child, she’d learned to steer clear of endless discussions regarding how to handle this or that person. She’d watched her Paw-Paw’s simple approach to life and grown to appreciate it, instead.
But she sensed complications, more and more complications, swirling around Luc.
This club.
His rejection of sex.
His determined avoidance.
He wasn’t going to ease into their relationship like she’d presumed at first. She’d thought her mere presence in his house would sooner or later lure him to her bed.
He wanted her, still. There’d been that glance at her butt the other day—the one she’d caught and teased him about. There’d been the look in his eyes when she’d come out of the bathroom this morning after her shower. There’d been clues and hints strewn throughout these past two weeks that had given her hope.
Now it became clear to her, though.
He wasn’t going to budge.
“He’s incredibly stubborn, isn’t he?” she grouched.
His friend chuckled. “Incredibly.”
“Mais, I can be more stubborn.” Folding her arms in front of her, she frowned. “Who used to play here?”
“What?” Lali straightened in the chair. “What do you mean?”
“There were musicians, right?” She waved at the stage behind her. “Are they still in the area?”
“That’s weird you would ask.”
“Why?”
“Because an old friend of Luc’s who played on this very stage stopped by a few days ago. After years of not seeing him.” The other woman nodded her head again, her eyes narrowing. “Cyrus wanted to know when the club would reopen.”
“Out of the blue he shows up?” Nina’s brows rose and her firm conviction that this was the right path bloomed inside. “That’s not a coincidence.”
“I believe you’re correct.” Lali’s wide smile flashed. “Girlfriend. You might be on to something.”
“A surprise.” The idea blasted into her brain. “We’ll open the club the night of the festival, and surprise him. It will cap the festival off.”
“We’re taking a chance. Luc could get really pissed off.”
“Since he’s regularly pissed off at me, I’ll take the chance.”
She got a chuckle for that.
“Do you have contacts for the rest of the musicians?” Nina charged on with her new plan. “I’ll need to contact them.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ve kept in touch with most of them, and quite a few of the regular patrons, as well.”
Before she could respond, a buzz came from the other woman’s pocket. “That will be the produce delivery.” Palming the cell phone, Lali nodded. “I’ve got to get back.”
She reluctantly followed her out of the club, taking one last glance behind as the old wooden doors closed. A dozen ideas buzzed inside her head as they walked across the barren brick terrace to meet a smiling delivery man.
“Eulalie,” he said. “Got some good stuff for you today.”
“You better, Bernard. You know what Luc will say if you don’t.”
The man chuckled as he opened the back of his van. “Chef Miró would throw his usual fit. But not today. Today, he will have nothing to complain about.”
The restaurant’s door flew wide, revealing the saleau in all his glory.
He frowned. As usual.
His hair looked like he’d recently gotten out of bed. As usual.
The rough stubble on his jaw and cheeks matched the old T-shirt and ragged jeans he wore. Another usual occurrence. What she could do with this man if given a chance. He had to give her at least one chance, right?
His gaze lit on her and his frown turned into a scowl. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“Not yet,” she chirped, trying not to let his reaction bother her. “Lali was just showing me—”
“Are you going to check in the produce today, Luc?” The other woman cut in, her expression bland. “I can finish up with Nina, if that’s the case.”
Immediately, she knew she’d flubbed. Sometimes, she had to admit, her tongue romped ahead of her brain. Lali was right. This wasn’t the time to give Mr. Grumpy Miró any hint of what was planned. “That’s an excellent idea—”
“Showing you what?” His scowl went fierce and his gaze shot behind them, straight across the empty terrace.
“Chef, I’ve got some chanterelle and black trumpet mushrooms you’re going to love.” Bernard, the smiling delivery man kept his smile, although by the crease in his forehead, he’d spotted the potential for a male thunderstorm. “And some fantastic Vidalia onions.”
The dark gaze switched from the terrace to the smiling man. For a moment, she held her breath and then, let it out in relief when he swung around, grumbling his way back into the restaurant’s kitchen.
“Sorry,” she whispered to Lali. “I didn’t think.”
“You must always think with Luc,” the other woman responded. “He never misses a thing.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Her hand was grabbed in a tight grip and brown eyes almost glared into hers. “I can’t lose him again to a woman’s negligence, Nina.”
The pain in those eyes made her want to weep. “You won’t. I promise.”
“I will hold you to that promise, mon ami.” Lali’s serene smile returned, yet her eyes didn’t waver. “I promise you.”
Chapter 21
Why the hell hadn’t he stayed away for a few more hours?
Luc paced into his dinky office and slammed the door behind him
. He’d purposely scheduled an appointment at the bank and then several errands this morning, when Lali had told him about the meeting with Nina.
Trying to distract himself from the memory of the sunlight sliding into her brown hair and turning it to gold, he slumped into the chair and flicked on the computer. A calendar popped up, telling him there were only two more weeks to the festival.
Only two more weeks.
He could control himself for two more weeks.
After the festival, he’d make a more concerted effort to find her a new apartment. With Lali’s time being taken up with the arrangements, he’d had to take on more duties. He had barged into his popa’s office a time or two, demanding an update. But it was clear Mitch Miró was under his wife’s thumb when it came to their son’s supposed love life. Nothing could be found in the vast array of Miró properties, he’d been told.
What a load of crap.
Clicking on the daily personnel schedule, he tried to focus, even though Lali and Nina’s voices floated into the room along with Bernard’s cheery conversation.
Luc slouched into the chair, waiting.
The back door slammed shut after another of Bernard’s cheerful rejoinders—this one a goodbye.
The women kept talking.
How much could there be to discuss about a stupid street festival? He’d run a few in his time. When he’d first opened the restaurant, he’d held a yearly jazz festival for promotion, and also because he enjoyed bringing in musicians from across the country. So he knew the amount of work involved.
The thought streamed into his head that perhaps the women weren’t talking about the festival, at all. Perhaps they were talking about whatever they’d been looking at right before he came out the door.
Perhaps they were talking about Club Del Oso.
A clutch of emotion, one he didn’t care to define, twisted in his chest. The memory of Cyrus sitting outside of his restaurant with Lali came to him. Between avoiding Nina at home and making sure not to get involved in the festival planning, he’d forgotten that oddity. He’d forgotten to ask his sous-chef about it.
He frowned at the closed door.
He’d wait until she left.
The door flew open with a bang.
Lali gave him her serene smile. “There was a question or two we had for you.”
She smiled from behind. An entirely different smile. One of her come hither, come and get me, come into my bed and come, smiles.
“Do what you think is best,” he growled, swinging his gaze to his computer. “I left it up to you.”
“So…” His sous-chef drawled. “BBQ ribs will be served at the festival, then.”
His head jerked up.
The two females kept their smiles, except he could tell by the look in their eyes, they meant to do this.
To push him.
“We don’t have that particular item on our menu.”
Both women’s smiles didn’t flinch.
“It’s easy enough to add,” Lali stated, her arms folding in front of her. “Or I guess we can just cook them for the festival.”
The other woman leaned on the doorsill in her usual, languid way. Today, she wore jean shorts and a simple cotton tee. She apparently wore a bra as well, since he didn’t see any perky nipples.
And yet.
And yet, his cock stood to immediate attention when she moved into full view. Those long legs of hers. The humid mist on the tan skin of her neck and collarbone. The trail of one strand of hair curling along the line of one shoulder.
Mierda.
It was a good thing he was sitting down.
“Luc.”
He shook his head, trying to focus on his sous-chef. Her expression was sour, as if he’d missed something she’d said. “What?”
“Like I was just saying, I’ve already talked to the meat vendor and he can provide as many pork spare ribs as we need.”
“Not spare.” The words shot out of his mouth before he could hold them in. “You know that.”
“Oui, I know that.” Lali smiled. “You’ll want baby back, instead.”
“Wonderful.” Nina beamed at him, making him squirm in his seat, the lust steaming inside. “I’m so glad. I can’t wait to taste your ribs.”
Her eyes gleamed with the double-entendre. He could practically feel her lips nibbling down his sides to his hips and beyond. The heat rose in him, scorching his brain and firing his ever-existent temper. “I never said I was cooking ribs.”
“No, mon lami, though you’re stating what kind of meat I should order, so it would seem—”
“It’s not what it seems.” The desire to stand, to tower over these two scheming females burned inside, but he’d stupidly worn gym shorts instead of jeans, and he knew where her gaze would go as soon as he stood. The feeling of being caged, caught, roared through him, making him even angrier. “There’s going to be no ribs at the festival, or any other time. I don’t cook BBQ any longer.”
Both of their faces fell, and Luc felt as if he’d snatched a treat away.
Guilt and lust and a whole stew of emotions churned inside him. “Go away,” he grumbled, switching his focus to the computer. “I have work to do.”
A rustle of motion told him they were leaving, and relief billowed.
A sharp finger poked him right smack in the middle of his forehead.
“Ouch.” He slammed back in his chair and glared at her.
Lali chuckled from the doorway. “I’m going. Time to run some errands of my own. I’ll lock the door behind me.”
“Don’t leave—”
The office door slid shut, cutting off his words, and leaving him with this woman.
Alone.
Her smoky eyes weren’t misty with come hither anymore. The smoke had turned to steel. Maybe he had nothing to worry about as far as sex. She looked mad enough to spit. Which was a good thing.
A good thing? his cock howled at him.
“I’ve had enough of you,” she snarled from across the desk.
This was also a good thing. If she’d had enough of him, she wouldn’t throw him her looks any more. He wouldn’t have to control himself for two more weeks. She’d leave him alone, once and for all.
Leaning across his desk, her lips twisted, and the steel in her eyes turned pointed, like the tip of a sword. “You’re not going to hide any longer.”
“No?” His temper blasted to life, pushing aside his regrets and his lust. Taking advantage of this, he stood, knowing there wouldn’t be any damning evidence for her to spot now. “Who says?”
Unlike his prudent staff, she didn’t back down. Instead, she thrust her face right into his. “I do.”
“And who exactly are you?” he sneered. “A little girl who doesn’t know when to stop and think.”
She jerked away, her mouth dropping open.
Luc knew he should quit right here. He knew what he was capable of when he lost his temper. For the last five years, he’d held a very tight rein on himself because of the damage he’d caused. But something about this woman yanked away all his restraints.
His grip on his lifestyle.
His caution about sex.
His suppression of his emotions.
Every atom of his being pushed him toward her. He followed her retreat, his body bending across his desk. The clatter of the stapler and pen holder falling to the floor hardly penetrated the fog of rage surrounding him. “A little girl who jumps from one man’s bed to another.”
Her smooth tan skin whitened.
A howl of regret and pain swept through him. He ignored it. “A so-called woman who’s been living in my house for weeks, scot-free.”
The smoke of her eyes cleared, leaving only fire. “You didn’t seem to mind me being around once or twice.”
“Only once,” he stated. “Never again.”
“Don’t lie, silly saleau.” She came right at him, her lips barely a millimeter from his. “It will happen again. You know it will.”
The fi
re in her eyes blasted through him like a torch. Luc felt the heat of her flash inside him, a call he couldn’t ignore. The last lingering hold on himself burnt away, leaving nothing beyond want and need and soul-shattering desire. He came around the desk in two steps. The stupid woman should have known better, should have understood what he’d unleashed, but she merely gave him another of her smiles.
The smile dropped from her lush mouth when he picked her up and pushed her against the wall.
“Oh,” she said.
He didn’t allow her to say anything else. He might go mad, he might lose everything, if she kept egging him on.
His kiss wasn’t soft and kind, or tender and sweet. It took. Her taste swept into him like a tangle of vines slinking across a brick wall. The essential Nina—plummy, honey, tart. She opened her mouth to him and sucked on his lips in instant acceptance and responding need.
A cavern yawned inside him, a deep gaping hole he’d covered up with work and solitary confinement.
She poured in, filling him.
Gasping, he reared back to tug on her T-shirt and shorts. “Off.”
“Such a man.” Her husky laugh drove him crazy. But she mitigated her sins by willingly pulling her shirt over her head. “You need to take off your clothes, too.”
Her words scarcely penetrated. His entire focus zeroed in on her bra. The woman liked lingerie. He’d known that since he’d moved her here and there. Not until now, though, did he truly appreciate the knowledge.
The bra was so quintessentially Nina. The straps were a happy yellow, with a cute little bow nestled in the center of her cleavage. A garden of vivid, red-and-purple flowers reached from the bottom edge, winding across the cups, drawing a man’s gaze.
She looked like a garden. His own personal female garden.
“Off,” he said again.
Again, she laughed her distinctive laugh.
He grunted, his fingers reaching behind her. With one twist, she was naked from the waist up. Sighing, she leaned back on the wall, thrusting her torso up, giving him everything.
Why had he ever thought she lacked? In anything?
Pushing his hips against her body to keep her where he wanted, his hands filled with her, the plump, warm flesh soothing some deep wound inside. She poured herself into him once more, filling the cavern with the musky female scent of need, the smoky desire in her eyes, the lushness of essential woman.