by Ann Major
“Not so fast,” Tommy snarled.
Logan smiled. “Hello, Tommy. Is Cici around?”
“What’s it to you if she is?” he bellowed. “What in the devil makes you think you’ve got the right to set foot in here, Claiborne?”
Logan stared into the bloodshot blue eyes of T-Bos’s bouncer. A dozen members of Tommy’s little gang, all squatting around their dirty tables or leaning against the bar slammed their longnecks down and scowled at him.
Not that Logan recognized any of the hulking figures through the haze of smoke. Except for the neon beer signs, strings of colored lights decorating the bar, television sets mounted in every corner of the building and the flickering strobe lights, T-Bos’s Bar was dimly lit. This was probably a good thing.
“Where’s Cici?” Logan repeated.
Two bikers kicked their chairs over and stood up, stretching their brawny arms before crossing them menacingly over their wide chests and beer bellies.
“What business you got with Bos’s Cici?” Tommy demanded.
“I called Bos, and Bos told me she was here.”
“You talked to Bos?” Tommy relaxed visibly.
“He sent me.”
“He damn sure didn’t tell me.”
“So call him, why don’t you? Ask him.”
“Bos don’t like me botherin’ him when he don’t feel good, that’s why.”
When cockfighting had been legal, Logan’s grandfather had pressured T-Bos to close his bar and his cockfighting establishment. Ever since the pit had been closed by new legislation, the Claibornes hadn’t been the most popular people with Bos and his biker clientele.
“Cici’s out back,” Tommy finally said through gritted, yellow teeth. “You better not be lying about Bos sending you.” Then with a meaningful shrug, Tommy disappeared. As his biker buddies crashed back in their chairs, even as their gazes pinned him, Logan heard him yelling for Cici.
A new song began to play that was even louder than the one before. Strobe lights began flashing to its beat.
In less than a minute Cici waltzed in looking like an angel in a pretty blue dress, the like of which Logan had never seen her wear before. Ablaze in the white light, she held a tray of glittering amber beer bottles high over her head.
Logan shoved a chair aside and loped through the throng of angry bikers to her. He felt embarrassed, nervous with so many tense gazes tracking him. When her shining eyes fixed on his face, she lowered her tray.
“You’re crazy…coming here,” she said. “Tommy’s not too crazy about you.”
“I had to see you. It doesn’t make sense, but there it is. I had to see you. Ever since you came back, nothing in my life makes sense anymore.”
She smiled, but tentatively. “You—being here—makes zero sense.”
“I missed you today,” he said.
“You said that on the phone. Why should I believe you?”
Her smile softened her expression, and something in her eyes welcomed him at least a little. Did she look dazzled? Or was it just the strobe lights? Well, a man could hope, couldn’t he…maybe, just maybe it was him that had made her face go so soft and radiant.
Desire for her and some other emotion raced along his veins, lighting his nerves. The bikers’ sharp gazes were drilling holes in his back. He should have been embarrassed or maybe scared to death. But suddenly he didn’t care what any of them thought.
He caught her hand, pulled her nearer. It was simply too good to see her again after the long hours apart. Everything else he’d done today, Mitchell, Hayes, Alicia, the merger, Jake, seemed so unimportant. Which was crazy.
Although it was dark, he could detect her cheeks flush just as he felt himself washed with similar heat. Gently, he intertwined his fingers with hers and brought her hand to his lips. Then he gripped her fingers tightly and just held them against his cheek for a minute or two. It felt good, and so damn right, just to be with her.
“When do you get off work?” he asked finally, letting her go.
“Two hours.”
“What can I do to help? I can wash glasses. Wait tables.”
“No. You’re to stay away from these guys. Pull up a stool behind the bar and just stay out of trouble. No conversation. Don’t even look their way.”
“You’re letting me off too easy.”
“If we get out of here without you getting into a fight, I’m happy. You’re not too popular around here, you know.”
“As long as you’re glad I’m here….”
“I’m not making you any promises, Claiborne.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
When Cici left the bar on Logan’s hard arm, her heart beat thunderously at the base of her neck.
“What do you want to do now?” she asked when they stood before their cars.
“First we kiss. Just once.”
“Here? No way. We need to beat it.”
“Here,” he whispered sharply.
His tanned face lowered toward hers. His blue eyes flamed. Then his mouth touched hers as tenderly and innocently as he’d kissed her that first time, so many years ago when he’d made her realize it was him she wanted, not Jake. His body barely brushed hers. Even so, she felt his heat and wanted more.
Afterward, when he pulled away, he gazed down at her for a long moment. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.
It was harder for her to concentrate after his kiss. He was standing so close, and he felt so deliciously warm. Yet she couldn’t let herself trust him.
“We could drive to Belle Rose. Make a pot of coffee and then drive into New Orleans,” he said.
“Look, it’s been a long day. I’ll bet you’re every bit as tired as I am. I think you should spend the night at Belle Rose. Not with me. In the big house across the hall from your grandfather. You should have breakfast with him. Pay attention to him.”
“Okay, if I follow you home tonight, so I can make sure you don’t have a breakdown?” he said.
She nodded. “I suppose that’s allowed.”
He opened her car door for her, and she slid inside.
“I’m glad you came tonight. I wanted to see you again. You know me—the wild swamp girl with the self-destructive streak.”
“Cici, I want it to be different this time.”
“I’m not sure I want…a this time,” she replied. “I’m not sure I could ever trust you again.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way. All I can say is that ever since last night…I’m not myself.”
“Right, you lost the merger and your girlfriend. So, you’re feeling a little vulnerable.”
He was about to argue, but she pressed a fingertip against his warm lips. “Cheer up. This too shall pass. You’ll be your old killer, ambitious self in no time. I promise.”
“Maybe that’s not enough for me anymore.”
“One night of sex with me and you’re a changed man? Forgive me if I can’t quite buy into the new, reformed Logan Claiborne. I know I’m good, but that would take a miracle worker.” With a laugh she turned her key in the ignition and revved her engine. “Better hop in your car. You’re going to have to drive pretty fast to catch me.”
As she roared out of the parking lot, the last thing she saw was his headlights flash on and leap forward through the darkness after her.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and cooked toast filled the high-ceilinged kitchen that had been used as the prep room in the olden days. Back then the large brick ovens in the real kitchen had been outside.
Through the open double doors, Cici could see the lovely dining room as she leaned against a long table, munching toast and sipping coffee. And for a moment, the room with its glittering crystal and silver seemed as fantastic as it had when she’d been a child, standing outside peering through the windows.
“Belle Rose was always a magical place to me,” she said. “I used to love helping Noonoon cook. But most of all I loved hearing her stories about you and Jake.”
�
�You were so infatuated with Jake back then.”
“I did have a crush on him for years and years. He was so reckless and wild. Always doing something like chasing gators to get a girl’s attention. You were so serious.”
“You mean dull.”
“No.”
“Yes. I was dull because Grandpère was always throwing my father and mother up to me. Besides, one twin had to pay attention to business. I was ten minutes older and, therefore, the older, more responsible brother.”
She laughed.
He opened the refrigerator. “There’s leftover crawfish étouffée, dirty rice, yams and some gumbo. Are you hungry for more than toast?”
“I’m okay.”
“It was wrong of me to come between you and Jake that last summer,” he murmured, his voice growing darker as he shut the door. “Wrong to justify my actions by saying I was saving Jake from you. Wrong to give in to my grandfather’s grudge against you.”
“Are you finally apologizing?”
“For what it’s worth, yes. But saying I’m sorry can’t undo the past.”
“You’re right about that. But we wouldn’t be here now, if you hadn’t wooed me then.” She faltered, not wanting to say more.
“And we wouldn’t have had last night,” he said.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m not sorry about last night.”
“Not even if it cost you the merger…and Alicia?”
“No. I’m not sorry.”
She took a deep breath. “That’s saying a lot, then.”
“But do you believe me?”
“It’s too early to tell. But I’ll keep you posted.”
“Cici…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Eat your toast.”
He flushed darkly as if he suddenly felt shy around her.
She laughed. “Tongue-tied?”
“What’s with the new, subdued look?” he asked. “The hair…brushed and tied back so neatly? The demure dress?”
“Maybe last night changed me, too. Although not as profoundly as you claim to be changed. But I’ll be honest enough to admit that I was thinking about you when I bought this dress, thinking maybe I should try to tone my image down.”
“Cici, I’m not asking you to change. You can even go with the Princess Leia look if you wish.”
“Who said I was changing just to please you?”
“Nobody, but I do like the dress. Not that it matters.”
Smiling, she set her empty coffee cup in the sink. “I guess I’ll go out to the garçonnière now. Catch up on my beauty rest…”
“Would you like to go dancing first?” he asked. “Maybe at Rousseau’s. That’s not so far. And we wouldn’t have to stay long.”
He was smiling, and his eyes were sparkling. She was tired; she should be wary. But being wary was not in her nature.
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind a little dancing,” she said archly. “But only if we go in my car…and you let me drive…with the top down.”
“I like a woman who likes to be in charge once in a while,” he whispered.
“Well, don’t you dare try to be a backseat driver.”
His white teeth flashed as he put his arm around her and led her outside onto the gallery and then down to her Miata. Then he stopped and quickly wrote his grandfather a note telling him he’d found Cici and that they were driving to the well-known dance hall. After placing the note in the kitchen, they raced out to her car.
She put the top down and said, “Buckle your seat belt.”
Once behind the wheel, she drove fast, maybe to scare him a little or maybe because that’s the way she always drove. Not that he acted the least bit scared.
As the humid darkness flew by, he talked about how for years his life had been nothing but business. He told her that running Claiborne Energy was so challenging he often worked seventy-hour weeks, sometimes even more.
“I guess I thought I had to work like that because my father let Grandpère down, and maybe because Jake had walked out because of me. I think I thought I had a lot to make up for.”
“Or maybe you were simply ambitious.”
“Maybe.”
Petrochemical plants along the river lit up the darkness from time to time, their smokestacks belching noxious fumes, but other stretches beside the levee were edged thickly with trees. They rushed past a stand of willows that streamed eerily in the breeze.
The moon was high and golden, but she paid it no attention. She was too busy watching the road and listening to him. When she saw the sign for Rousseau’s, the wildly popular dance hall since the 1930s that was located on a tiny piece of sinking land beside the bayou, she pulled over.
“You were married,” she said, after they found a picnic table on the plywood porch outside the dance hall, because his marriage interested her more than his work did. “Surely, even someone as ambitious as you didn’t work all the time.”
“But I did. I was never home.”
“I’m sure she understood,” Cici lied, hoping for more as she nibbled a cracker and watched a pair of elderly dancers through the windows as they slowly glided past them.
When Logan ordered beer and crawfish tails and andouille, a spicy, smoked sausage, she wondered how a man could eat so much and remain in such good shape.
“I guess I told myself she did…at the time,” he said.
“I have to confess I’ve read about you and Noelle through the years. I poured over every glossy picture of you and her in front of your Italianate mansion in the Garden District I could find. Even when I was overseas I kept up on the Internet. I was still curious to know how the glamorous Claibornes lived. About how you lived.”
“Magazine articles are as airbrushed as those photographs on their covers. They leave out a lot.”
“Your life with Noelle sounded like a fairy tale,” she said, turning the conversation back to what she was curious about.
“Yes. It was supposed to. We were much admired.” His deep voice sounded full of pain. “Image was important to me then.”
“But no longer—after last night in my bed,” she said.
“I think you’ve made that point before.” His eyes met hers. “Don’t sell yourself short. “Still, I’ve always had a knack for getting what I want, and back then, I was greedy for success.” He hesitated. “But, be careful what you wish for, as they say. Even success can be dangerous.”
She could tell him a thing or two about danger. Like tonight. What was she doing here with him? Listening to him? Believing him? Almost forgiving him?
She shifted on her seat. “So why did you come looking for me tonight?”
“You mean besides the fact that you are a sexual goddess.”
She laughed.
“You are, you know?”
“Right.”
“You’re spectacular. And not just in bed.” His hand reached across the table and folded hers inside his fingers, causing a trill of warm sensation to flood her.
“Cici, I received many calls today, thanking me for the wonderful party I threw my grandfather. Apparently, he had the time of his life all because of you. Thank you for making him so happy.”
“I can’t take all the credit. You paid for everything. You’ve been letting him come into the office.”
“You showed me that I was neglecting him…just like I neglected Noelle. And he’s actually proved himself useful at the office. He knows so much about the company’s past, and he’s very wise. Hopefully, because of you, I’ll be more attentive to him in the future.”
“Like having breakfast with him in the morning?”
“Like that.”
She smiled. “He loves you so much.”
“I love him, too. I owe him everything.”
“Funny, how easy it is to forget those we love sometimes.”
“Not so funny.” He pressed her hand tightly and then brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingertips warmly. “I’ve run roughshod over the people
I’ve loved,” he whispered. “It’s time I stopped.”
“You know what they say about good intentions, Claiborne.”
“If you can wear that demure blue dress, maybe I can change a feather or two of my plumage.”
“It’s not so easy, you know.”
“You forget how determined I can be when I want something.”
Their food and beer came, and he withdrew his hand. She ordered more crackers. For a while their food and drink proved so distracting, they didn’t talk. Then he asked her to dance, and being held in his arms was even more distracting than chatting or holding hands or eating had been.
He pulled her close, his voice in her ear as they swirled faster than the elderly dancers. Tonight there was no one to stop them from dancing with each other as long as they liked, so they remained on the dance floor for nearly an hour. She was breathless when he led her back to their table.
“It’s late, and I’m very tired,” she said. “Would you drive me home?”
“You trust me to drive?”
“Yes, but that’s all I trust you to do.”
“For now,” he said in a husky tone.
Nine
I t was a balmy spring morning with water splashing in the nearby fountain and bees buzzing in the azalea blossoms.
Logan was being the perfect gentleman, not that he was to be trusted, Cici reminded herself. Still, she was enjoying his company as well as Pierre’s way more than she wanted to as she sipped steaming chicory coffee and nibbled at her scrambled eggs and spicy Chaurice sausage on the wide veranda.
A swamp girl could get used to the high life. Yes, she felt totally at ease with them and their elegant surroundings as the old man proceeded to extract each detail concerning the failed merger from his grandson.
“This is a temporary setback,” Pierre said. “A challenge. Mitchell will come around.”
“I don’t think so, and frankly…I’m not sure…” Logan’s sudden grin revealed a flash of straight white teeth.