by Ann Major
Still, Logan took a second or two to study the rest of the half dozen new houses his brother had under construction. Jake had certainly made something of himself. He wasn’t just rich; he was making a difference. Like the house Logan was standing on, all Jake’s houses were modern, affordable, green, and well-designed and well-built, too.
Other than Jake’s project and a few others like it, not nearly enough progress had been made rebuilding neighborhoods like this since the hurricanes. Vast empty fields and broken roads and a few trailers were all that was left of the once vital community that had been flooded when the nearby levee had been breached several years ago.
Logan forced his mind to Alicia. He didn’t blame her for not answering her phone, but if he couldn’t reach her, how could he appease Mitchell before their meeting about the merger?
Earlier Logan had dropped by the building in the Quarter where Alicia lived. Her doorman had been only too happy to inform him that she’d come home early this morning with a man who looked a whole lot like Logan, that she’d packed a bag, and that the two of them had left almost immediately.
“He had his arm around her. He seemed to be comforting her. Until you showed up, I thought he was you.”
So, where were they?
Logan punched in Alicia’s cell phone number, but as it rang, a vision of Cici naked in bed beneath him last night sprang into his mind. God, she’d felt so deliciously hot he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
All morning as he’d searched for Alicia and Jake, Cici had been on his mind. He kept remembering her taste and the thrill of her soft, wet lips when she’d gone down on her knees to pleasure him. He got hard every time he thought about it, which was all the time, damn it.
Last night had been wonderful. Everything had been great after they’d started making love until he’d awakened to sobering reality this morning. Even so, he hadn’t been gone from her five minutes before he’d wanted to turn his Lexus around and drive right back and reassure her.
He had his own life, even if it was a mess at present. He couldn’t let himself care about Cici Bellefleur. But suppose he did care.
As Logan raced down the steps to his Lexus, he dialed Alicia’s cell phone. When her voice mail picked up again, he snapped his phone shut. Clearly, she wasn’t ready to be found. At least not by him.
Who could blame her?
He was jamming his key in the ignition, when his own phone rang. Finally, he thought, sure it was Alicia.
Hayes spoke instead. “Mitch just walked in. You’d better get the hell over here.”
“He’s early. It’s only twelve-thirty. Our meeting isn’t until one.”
“He’s here. He says you’re late. He says the meeting’s supposed to start now.”
“He always thinks all meetings should start whenever he shows up. He’s being unreasonable—as usual.”
“I don’t think he likes you very much this morning, either. Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Mitch thinks I hurt Alicia.”
“Well, did you?”
“Not on purpose. Alicia won’t talk to me, so I don’t know exactly what is wrong with her.”
“Is Miss Bellefleur involved in any of this?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Okay. So, sounds like she’s involved. Not good.” He paused. “Mitchell just told me he has another offer—a very attractive offer from J.L. Brown. So, where does this leave our merger?”
“You’d better ask Mitchell.”
The door of the dress shop closed behind Cici with a tinkle of merry, silvery bells. Her emotions had been in such turmoil ever since Logan had left, she’d been unable to think, much less focus on her book. So, she’d driven into town on an errand for Noonoon and to check a book out of the library for Pierre. And, now after seeing the blue dress in the shop window, she was shopping to distract herself.
Besides, she’d been desperate to get away from the telephone because despite everything she’d said to the contrary to Logan, she’d longed for him to call. If everybody else on the planet hadn’t phoned to say how much he or she had loved the party, maybe she wouldn’t have noticed Logan’s neglect quite as much. But every time the phone had rung, she’d driven herself crazy wishing it was him.
If only she could stop thinking about him, stop wishing he’d acted differently this morning.
Stupid. She knew what kind of man he was.
The elderly saleslady at the cash register looked up and smiled. “May I help you?”
“That dress in the window. It caught my eye. The blue one with the full skirt.”
“The sweet little sundress?”
“I was wondering if you had it in my size.”
“You’re a four, aren’t you, dear?”
“How did you know?”
Cici’s gaze was then drawn to a red lace bra and matching thong.
“Sexy, aren’t they? Just the things to win a man.” The saleslady smiled at her dreamily. “I used to be a four…and wear naughty underthings…but that was many, many years ago.”
Maybe so, but her step was as light as a girl’s as she hurried to the rack in the back and found the blue dress Cici liked in a four.
In no time Cici had the dress on and was staring at herself in a long, gilt-edged mirror lit by spring sunshine.
Twirling, she imagined the warmth in Logan’s eyes when he saw her in this dress. Would he approve? Was it demure enough?
Forget him. He’s in New Orleans with rich, perfect Alicia.
You don’t know that. Not for sure.
For almost sure. She’s beautiful. She has a fortune. Then there’s a merger in jeopardy. You can’t begin to compete with her. Or his real life.
The bodice clung to Cici’s breasts and made her waist look tiny. The blue skirt floated, swirling around her legs and hips every time she took a step.
He hadn’t gone after Alicia last night.
The dress was sexy, but classy, conservative, too. Not really her at all. Well, at least it was sexy.
“Cinderella,” the saleslady said. “You’re Cinderella in that dress. Minus the glass slippers.”
A sign?
Cinderella had married her prince.
“I’ll take it,” Cici said. “Next I want to try on that red bra and thong.”
“I have a couple of other dresses that you’d be equally stunning in. Would you like to see them, too?”
Later that afternoon at the garçonnière, Cici, who was three demure dresses richer, removed her bright nail polish and pulled her hair neatly back, tying it at the nape with a blue ribbon. She put on her new blue dress and turned around, eyeing herself in her mirror.
Satisfied with her maidenly appearance, if only because she believed it to be more to Logan’s taste, she picked up her briefcase and her computer. Then she walked over to Belle Rose and let herself into the library where she intended to do research for her book.
A dress and a hairdo won’t make any difference, her little voice taunted. You’re still who you are. Swamp Girl.
Ignoring the voice, she went to Pierre’s shelves and began pulling books down that had to do with her subject. Not that she really wanted to read them. Noonoon told Pierre she’d come over, and he came downstairs and took the book she’d gotten for him and began to read on the couch.
While she forced herself to work, he intermittently napped and read. She took a break, and they had tea and crackers together. But all the while, her mind was only half on her work because she was secretly waiting for her phone to ring and for Logan to say he was missing her as much as she missed him.
Crazy. They’d had sex. Meaningless sex.
The first time her cell rang, she jumped for it. But it was only her Uncle Bos calling to say he was having a bad day, which meant he was having a very bad day since he wasn’t a whiner and never called her, and would she stop over later and maybe tend bar if he was still too tired. Of course, she said yes.
Ci
ci stood up and went to the window. Looking out at the gray wet, she told herself that she had to quit thinking about last night, about how wonderful she’d felt in Logan’s arms.
Clearly it was over. Clearly last night hadn’t meant anything to him. Therefore, it couldn’t mean anything to her.
An hour later she was hard at work, taking notes feverishly in an attempt not to think about Logan when the phone rang again. This time it was her agent.
“How would you like to do a feature story on the bombings in Egypt near the pyramids? You always said you wanted to see the pyramids. This would be just the thing…and a feature…a feature…that is, if you’re ready to pick up your camera again.”
Part of her wanted to run away from last night, from what she’d done, from what she was afraid she felt for Logan. A monthlong shoot hiding behind her camera far, far away, focusing on other people’s misery would be just the thing to take her mind off her own recklessly foolish behavior here at home.
“I have a deadline,” she said because, of course, like any self-destructive, infatuated idiot, she was too fixed on the object of her torment to consider leaving him.
“What if I could get you an extension? I think this project would be worth your while.” Her agent named the generous fee the feature would pay. “Can you afford to pass it up?”
Not really. This is your career. Logan’s probably with Alicia right now. So, for once, do the smart thing. Pick up your camera again. Leave him. Run. Don’t risk this getting out of hand.
Cici remembered the night she’d held their little son in that sterile hospital room. His skin had felt so thin and papery, and yet soft, too. He’d seemed so fragile and broken. And she’d felt like the loneliest human being in the universe when she’d finally kissed his cool brow goodbye.
She really should run. Because if she wasn’t careful, she had no doubt Logan would hurt her again, maybe even worse than the first time.
Exhausted, Logan sat hunched behind his desk, which was littered with dozens of documents that would never be signed by Mitchell or himself. Even after hours of negotiation today, the merger was dead.
A year of work, hopes and dreams were down the drain. His future with Alicia was over as well. So, what?
Logan ran his hands through his hair. Curiously, he was too tired to care. Maybe tomorrow, the loss of it all would hit him. but then maybe not. All day he’d felt different, curiously free of his seething ambition. Things that always mattered to him more than anything, hadn’t gripped him.
Someone knocked on the door of his outer office, and he heard Mrs. Dillings greet whomever it was much too cheerfully for it to be so late in the day. And on a Sunday.
She was amazing. She’d come in early. Did she never tire?
Then his own intercom buzzed. “It’s your brother,” she said in a calm tone, as if Jake’s reappearance at Claiborne Energy at such a disastrous moment on a Sunday evening after an absence of nine years was a matter of course.
Forgetting the merger, Logan sprang to his feet, dashed to the door and threw it open just as Jake was striding toward it. When his twin’s hard gaze met his, Logan stiffened, but only for a second.
Relaxing, Logan grinned. “You’re not going to hit me this time, are you?”
Jake smiled as he thrust his big hand toward him. Without hesitation Logan shook it heartily.
“Welcome home. It’s been too long,” he said.
“Much too long. What can I say? We Claibornes are a stubborn bunch. Unforgiving to a fault.”
“It’s genetic,” Logan said. “I was high-handed and completely out of line.”
“To say the least. Still, I stayed away too long. I guess we both take after the old man.”
“In any case, I’m sorry for manipulating your life. And Cici’s.”
“Hey, I guess I should have been used to it. But what about Cici?” Jake’s smile died. “After the way you two danced together, I can’t help wondering if she’s forgiven you, too?”
“Not yet, but maybe I’m working on it.” Logan paused. “Care to sit down?”
“Another time. This will just take a moment.” Jake was smiling, but he seemed tense.
Logan shut the door.
“The reason I came by,” Jake said, “or one of the reasons is that I know you’ve been calling Alicia last night and again today.” He hesitated. “Because I was with her when you did, you see. So, I know she hasn’t returned your calls.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. But she says it’s over between you two, or rather that it never was. And I wanted to know if that is true.”
Logan inhaled. “If she says so.”
“What about you? Would you care if she started seeing someone else?”
“Meaning you, I suppose.”
“She wants nothing to do with me. She says it’s too soon. And that I’m the last man she’d ever date because I remind her too much of you.”
“Sorry. I’m afraid I behaved badly toward her at the party.”
“I explained about you and Cici.”
“I should have explained things myself, but I was in the middle of them and didn’t understand them too well myself.”
“You never did. You loved Cici, you know. You were just too damn stubborn or arrogant to admit it.”
“Well, I wish Alicia every happiness. You will tell her that if you see her or talk to her before I do, won’t you?”
“Right now, she’s not taking my calls.”
Jake soon turned their conversation to a safer topic, their grandfather’s health, and the next ten minutes were spent pleasantly. When they parted, they shook hands again and wished each other well.
It would take a while to mend the rift of years and renew their former emotional closeness, Logan thought as he turned off the lights so he could leave, too. But, at least they’d made a small start.
Cici was eating a sandwich for supper at her kitchen counter while she watched the news on her television. The breakup of the merger between Butler Shipyards and Claiborne Energy was such big news, it was on every channel.
She was grabbing her purse on her way out to T-Bos’s Bar when her cell rang.
“I want to see you,” Logan said, his voice so deep and dark, the energy in it charged her.
“I saw the news about the merger. Sounds like you had a rough day. I’m sorry.”
“Are you busy tonight?”
“What am I? Your consolation prize.”
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“What kind of question is that?”
All day she’d thought about his kisses and lovemaking until she’d felt he’d branded her as his own. And he didn’t even know why he was calling her.
“I was on my way out when you called,” she said.
“I can’t quit thinking about you.”
She couldn’t, either. “So what? Bad habits are hard to break.”
“Cici…”
“So, how’s Alicia?”
“I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Why?”
“Because she won’t talk to me, that’s why. But you might say she sent a message to me through a friend. It’s over between us.”
“Oh, you’re feeling lonely and vulnerable as a result. Which is why you’re calling me. And like a stupid sap I answer. So, you think maybe I’ll make myself available to you again?”
“No. That’s not it.”
“Of course, you won’t admit it. You’re a man. Last night turned you on. If this is about sex…you wanting it…thinking you can get it from me…and not being able to get it from your fancy girlfriend…and nothing else…”
“Cici, I do want to see you. Forget Alicia. Like I said—that’s over.”
“Look, you didn’t call me all day. So, it’s a little late now, okay?”
“I thought about you all day…all the damn day. Does that count?”
“Why should I care?”
“I
thought about you until I’m sick of thinking about you! I couldn’t call because I was dealing with Mitchell Butler and his unreasonable demands. Which were many. Then I was stuck in meetings with the board doing damage control after he trashed our merger.”
“Poor little rich multimillionaire. Or is it billionaire? Well, I can’t see you. Okay? Not tonight. Because I’ve made other plans. My uncle’s sick, and I promised to help him out.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Not tomorrow, either.”
“Why?”
“I have a life, you know, and so do you as you clearly demonstrated this morning. Oh, and there’s my deadline. You should thank me. I’m letting you off the hook. I’m trying to be smart and logical for a change. And that’s not easy for me.”
“Cici…”
“Goodbye!”
She hung up on him. When her phone rang again, and she saw it was him, she leaned against her counter with clenched fists. She felt all mixed up, wild to see him on the one hand, but scared to death where it would lead.
All day she’d felt almost sick with longing for him, and then he’d finally called. But what was different between them? He wanted her for sex, and she was afraid she was already too involved to resist him.
Better to stop now, if she still could.
A least ten minutes passed before she got herself together enough to walk into her bathroom and splash cold water onto her hot face. After bemoaning the fact she looked absolutely awful whenever she was this upset, she carefully touched up her makeup. Then with a swish of her blue skirts, she marched down her stairs with her head held high.
Nobody at T-Bos’s could know that her heart was breaking tonight. Not for Logan Claiborne. They’d think her a fool, which she probably was.
Eight
L ogan pulled up beside Cici’s Miata which was of course parked squarely in the middle of at least thirty or more big black motorcycles. His gaze drifting over cobras and rattlesnakes and angry streaks of red flames painted on the various bikes, Logan cut his engine. Not that he was eager to get out of his Lexus and face these bikers from hell.
Logan swung himself out of his car and took the stairs two at a time. Then he pushed the rough, unpainted door open. Hard rock music slammed him. Just as he was about to step inside, the meaty claw of a biker’s fist shot toward him through thick waves of cigarette smoke.