The NOLA Heart Novels (Complete Series)

by Maria Luis

  “Blondie.”

  His voice was a gruff command, and, as though connected to him by a string, her feet ceased moving. She twisted around to stare at the man who plagued her thoughts every moment of the day. It really wasn’t fair, especially as he didn’t seem the least bit moved by her presence. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Luke.”

  He didn’t get the hint and waved his arm toward the restaurant. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, one muscular arm settling over his chest. When the position appeared to be too uncomfortable for him to hold, Luke shoved his hand into his front pants’ pocket and waited.

  He’d be waiting for a long time.

  She turned sharply on her heels, once again heading for her car.

  Once again, he followed. If not for the cane crunching against the gravel, his footsteps would have been silent. A reminder that this man was not one to piss off.

  Too bad Anna had reached her boiling point. She stayed quiet until they reached her car, which was parked in a secluded part of the neighborhood, away from the hustle and bustle of St. Charles Avenue, one of New Orleans’ main streets. It was nearly ten at night and no one was out and about—except for the two of them.

  In a deathly soft voice, she asked, “You almost out of old high school buddies to set me up with?”

  “I’m not following.” He stopped behind her, and she could feel the warmth radiating off his big frame.

  His close proximity was unsettling. Enticing.

  No.

  Clutching her car keys tightly, Anna faced him, pressing her back up against her car. His face was cast in shadows, the wide breadth of his shoulders all that she could see. She lifted her chin defiantly, steeling herself against his innate masculinity. “Don’t even pretend with me, Luke. You agreed to three dates, two of whom you’ve known since high school. I’m sensing a trend.”

  “That’s not a trend.”

  Her mouth fell open. “How is it not? I know the whole challenge started as a lark, but, really, you could have tried a bit harder. At this point, you’ve set me up with a guy who wanted to know if and what type of panties I was wearing, and Mr. Jason Rush thought my name was Amber.”

  His deep baritone cut through the silence. “An honest mistake.”

  “The gross lingerie comment or the mixing up my name bit?”

  “The second one. Anna, Amber . . . I’m sure the guy was just nervous. You can be very intimidating, you know that?”

  She’d heard as much over the years, mostly from her peers. While her friends had been going out partying and getting wasted, Anna had been at home taking care of her son and doing her damned best to make something out of nothing. She may not have shed physical blood but the tears had been real.

  The sweat, too.

  Looking up at Luke, she wished his face wasn’t hidden in the shadows. His ambivalent tone gave away nothing. Neither did the stiff way he held his big body. And maybe it was because she couldn’t gauge his reaction that she tossed hell to high water and went with her gut.

  “Do you want to know why your choice of men don’t do it for me?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice level when she was oh-so-tempted to fly off the handle.

  But Anna Bryce didn’t lose her temper. She hadn’t as a debutante in high school or when Julian’s father gave her the slip with nothing but a wave and a see-ya-later. She hadn’t when her parents took off for greater parts of the world, leaving Anna to take care of her own “mistakes.” And, damn it, she’d even managed to keep her cool when the world as she knew it had shattered last year and nearly broke her relationship with Julian.

  Anna wasn’t fiery—she left that role up to her cousin, Shaelyn.

  She breathed in through her nose, then let the frustrated air expel from her mouth.

  She was good. Totally good. She’d never been better.

  “You know what?” She cocked her head to the side, jiggling her keys in her right hand anxiously. “Let’s not even go down that road. I’m going to go home. Consider the challenge called off.”

  His hand latched onto her wrist as she turned to open her car door. His grip was firm, strong, and she felt an answering tingle in places she’d rather not be tingling in under the current circumstances.

  In a low rasp, he ordered, “Tell me what you were going to say.”

  He was behind her now. Massive body mere inches away from her back. A masculine hand still encircled her wrist. Her knees felt close to wobbling, just as they had that day at Herbal Heaven, and she was all too aware of the way she itched to lean back against his chest and let her weight sink into him.

  “I don’t think so, Luke.”

  “You wanted to thirty seconds ago,” he countered. His hand drifted up to just above her elbow, where it remained as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I’m sensing a trend.”

  She jerked around. “Are you kidding? You can’t just”—she waved her hand, rattled to find how close he’d stepped toward her—“use my own words against me. There isn’t a trend.”

  “Isn’t there? Not once since we’ve met have you told me what you want in a partner. I’m no fucking matchmaker, sweetheart. The only thing I’ve ever matched before is a magazine with its rifle.”

  “I told you, Julian—”

  “Needs a good father figure in his life. Yeah, I got that part.”

  His nonchalance intensified her frustration, making it harder to remember that she did not lose her temper. Ever. “Then, excuse me if I’m wrong but neither date seemed up to snuff.”

  “For you, maybe. Ever think to ask them about how they felt about you having a son?”

  Conversation with Luke’s dates had started and ended on Anna’s business, although tonight’s had taken an unexpected turn. Still, it seemed that the concept of lingerie had the ability to halt grown men in their tracks and turn them into horny, untried virgins. She eyed Luke speculatively, amending that thought to fit only some grown men. On both occasions that Luke had visited La Parisienne, he hadn’t had any trouble forming coherent sentences.

  Shrugging off a flare of self-consciousness, she admitted, “We didn’t get that far.”

  “I know, because if y’all had, you would have learned that both Jason and Aaron have kids. Now”—he lifted a hand, warding off any argument on her end—“Aaron turned out to be a prick. I’m not denying that. But I didn’t pick them out of a fucking hat, thinking, ‘yeah, this dirt-bag will work perfectly for Blondie. I can’t wait to see her miserable for two hours tonight.’”

  The vehemence in his voice set her back on her heels. She and Luke barely knew each other, but she couldn’t help but wonder . . . “Then what were you thinking?”

  The hand on her arm tightened imperceptibly, though she felt the gentle squeeze all the way down to her toes like he’d set a clamp around her heart. She suddenly found it hard to breathe, and she only wished it was because of his nearness. If only it wasn’t because she wanted him to admit that the attraction was mutual. That she wasn’t the only one tossing and turning at night, and glancing out the window of her boutique during the day in the hope that he might stroll in.

  She forced her gaze to meet his, seeking answers in the darkness of the night.

  “You don’t want to know,” he finally said, huskily.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She heard him swallow. Was he nervous?

  Almost without thinking, Anna pushed away from the security of the car and took a half step toward him. Now there was no mistaking his sharp inhale, nor the way his fingers readjusted their grasp to cup her elbow and jerk her close, erasing that final gap between them.

  The subtle spice of his masculine cologne hit her, and, oh man, but it was utterly delicious. She wanted to press her nose to his neck and inhale, maybe even run her tongue along the outer rim of his ear before begging him to claim her mouth with his.

  Her hand found the hard plane of his chest, the fabric of his cotton T-shirt bunching under her fingers. “Now who’s evading?�
� she taunted with a half-grin.

  She still couldn’t make out his expression, so it came as a surprise when she found her back abruptly pushed up against the car again.

  His hands captured her wrists, tugging them up to the roof of her car, just above her head. And, oh my God, but he made no attempt to shield his hips from hers. He was packing, that was for sure. A pistol formed exclusively for a woman’s pleasure.

  He settled his hips between hers, dropping his head to her ear to rasp, “What exactly are you asking for here, Blondie?”

  Anna’s tongue felt swollen, clumsy. Anticipation, maybe. Five years’ worth of pent up need, most definitely. “I told you,” she whispered, her voice sounding rough even to her own ears, “I want to meet a nice guy who will learn to love Julian.”

  Though the words were true, they hung hollow in the night air.

  “That’s not all you want,” he said gruffly, his mouth so close to the column of her neck that, as he spoke, his lips grazed her sensitive flesh, drawing out goosebumps and a shiver down her spine.

  Their entire relationship had been one set after another of challenges, games. Who was she to stop that now? She shifted her lower body to better cradle his hips, making them both moan at the intimate contact. “Tell me what I want then, since you know all.”

  His mouth brushed the underside of her chin. “Me.”

  The blunt answer startled her and she instinctively pulled back.

  Luke didn’t let her, tightening his hold on her wrists and tangling his fingers with hers. Stretched out against the car, with his body aligned against hers, it was the most erotic position Anna had ever found herself in. She resisted the urge to roll her hips, only out of the desire to limit any possible embarrassment.

  One slip up and he’d discover how much she craved this connection with him.

  “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” His thumbs caressed hers, a deceptively lulling motion that made her desperate for more. More of his touch. More of him. “You want me.”

  Yes. “No.”

  He chuckled softly. “Liar.”

  “It’s not a lie.” Anna tossed her hair back, determinedly lifting her chin. “You’re the one who stalked me down after I left the bar tonight, even after I told you that I didn’t want to talk.”

  “You told Jason you’d use a strap-on to fuck him,” he said drolly. “How am I supposed to let a conversation on that slide away?”

  She rolled her shoulders. “By pretending it didn’t happen, that’s how.”

  Although she couldn’t make out his features, she could have sworn he narrowed his eyes. “Do you really have a strap-on?”

  “Sounds like you’re interested.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You sure? I could give you the same treatment I promised him.”

  “Fuck yes, I’m sure,” he growled. “When I’m with a woman, sex toys aren’t necessary.”

  Well, that was good to know. Sucking back her curiosity, she forced a nonchalant tone to her voice. “Because you’re above them.”

  If he caught her pun, he didn’t say so. “Because there isn’t anything a damn toy can do better than when I’m sliding deep into a woman, my name on her lips.” His voice turned to a pitch no higher than gravel. “Is that what you want to hear, Blondie? You’ve been in my head for weeks now, driving me fucking insane. I told you that I wasn’t looking for anything.”

  She gave in to temptation, rolling her hips against the bulge behind his customary sweatpants. “I’d say there’s a part of you feeling differently right now.”

  Just then, he moved his head slightly, and a slice of light spilled across his features, revealing glittering green eyes. She sucked in a breath, wondering, for the first time, if she’d perhaps pushed him too far.

  His thumbs centered on the beating pulse of her inner wrists, gently pushing down. It didn’t hurt—if anything, the weight on her body’s pressure points eased the butterflies in her stomach. He was trying to scare her off, she could see that. But what he didn’t realize was that the more he tried to push her away, the more Anna wanted to see him drop his steel walls.

  The Mr. Darcy effect, obviously.

  Hadn’t she told herself not to go after the Mr. Darcys of the world?

  She had. She’d been telling herself that for years now, and she still hadn’t learned her lesson. Clearly.

  “I think you want to,” she said, interrupting the still air. “I think you want to kiss me.”

  “Then why don’t I?”

  “Because you’re scared.”

  His chin pulled back. “I’m not scared.”

  “No?” Anna tilted her chin up, not the least bit surprised when Luke instinctively leaned down and hovered over her mouth. Then, she said the words that sealed her fate: “I dare you to prove it.”

  17

  “You dare me to what?”

  He didn’t even know it, but Anna had this in the bag. She’d recognized his love for competition that first day at Tuck’s, when she’d challenged him to find her perfect match. One minute he’d been ready to stroll away and never look back, and in the next, his rear end had dropped to the bench and they’d been hashing out the terms.

  This was no different. He wanted her; that was obvious from the way his erection jabbed into her stomach unapologetically. His brain might not want her—which quite honestly flagged her confidence somewhat—but his body keenly desired hers. Was it wrong to push him into a kiss? Perhaps a little degrading? Probably, but Anna had been fighting for what she wanted for her entire life.

  Her days of easy living and of luck falling into her lap had abruptly screeched to a halt the day she’d taken a pregnancy test. She’d fought tooth and nail to keep her baby, even when her mother had pushed her to consider adoption and when her straight-laced father had slyly, and shockingly, mentioned the word “abortion.”

  Julian’s father had never wanted him; Anthony Mardeaux had never made that fact a secret. But from the first moment she’d felt her son kick in her belly—and subsequently had her throwing up her lunch—Julian had been hers and hers alone.

  The fight hadn’t ended there, and it wouldn’t now either.

  Staring up at the shadowed face of Luke O’Connor, she silently admitted that she wanted him far more than she should. He was a package deal, guaranteed to land a woman in total heartbreak.

  Anna had no interest in having her heart broken. But a single kiss on a dark street didn’t have to lead to cackling cupids and Ben & Jerry-filled nights, right? She could take his one kiss and put her stupid infatuation with him behind her as easily as she put on shoes every morning.

  Are you sure about that?

  “I dare you to kiss me,” she announced, shoving aside the doubts dancing in her head. “Prove that you aren’t scared to do it.”

  “I’m not scared of anything.”

  “So prove it.” Was this the right move? Had she lost her ever-loving mind? Shaelyn would be shocked to hear that Anna had pulled a stunt like this, and honestly, Anna was a little shocked at herself as well. “Same terms as last time.”

  “Winner gets whatever they want?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Dangerous terms,” he murmured, his hands still deliciously pinning hers to the car. “Are you sure you’re willing to risk losing twice?”

  “I don’t plan on losing.”

  He chuckled and the sound warmed her. “Blondie, all I have to do is kiss you and I’ve won. The way I see it, I’m staring victory straight in the face right now.”

  Crap, he was totally right. Think, think, think! “Okay, new rules.”

  “No can do.” His lips grazed her cheek. “You’ve already established the dare and who am I to turn it down?”

  She shouldn’t have counted on Luke being a gentleman. He was rude, cocky and . . . sweet, when he wanted to be. “You can’t just give me a peck. That won’t count.”

  “I haven’t pecked a woman since I was seven years old and still wearing
tighty-whiteys.”

  Stifling a giggle at the absurd image, Anna pursed her lips. “Lies. You pecked me on the cheek the other day.”

  “You know what I mean, Blondie.”

  Yeah, she did. Still . . . “Promise, Luke. You have to kiss me like you mean it. Otherwise I win on principle alone.”

  “I don’t plan on losing,” he said, repeating her vow, and before she could take her next breath, his lips crashed down on hers.

  Heaven.

  She felt like heaven wrapped up in unicorns with a good dose of treasure under the rainbow just for shits and giggles. Tasted like it all, too.

  Luke raked his fingers through her hair, dragging them down, down, down until he clasped the base of her head in his hands. Her head fell back instantly, as she let his palms support the weight under the onslaught of his kiss.

  This dare had to be the stupidest one Luke had ever agreed to. The stupidest and also the most satisfying, because he doubted anything felt better in the world than Anna Bryce pressed up against his hard body.

  Her lips were soft, the bottom one fuller than the top, and he stopped to nip it dead in the center, demanding entrance. She gave it at once, her mouth parting on a sexy sigh, and he changed his angle to deepen the kiss.

  The kiss.

  Fuck, he couldn’t believe that he was kissing Anna—after he’d told himself that this couldn’t ever happen between them—and he showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

  How could he?

  She tasted like nectar on a summer morning. His eyes slammed shut. Luke didn’t do poetry. He didn’t like poetry. The woman in his arms was turning him inside out and he didn’t like it one bit.

  Their undeniable chemistry would make it all the more difficult when they went their separate ways. And they would go their separate ways. Having a relationship wasn’t in the cards for Luke. His bum hip was the least of his worries.

  Being in a relationship meant honesty, but Luke couldn’t make any promises on that score.

  It meant having a general plan, and the army had been the only plan Luke had ever known.

  And it meant children, which Luke didn’t—