by Bella Grant
As he stepped inside and turned back to close the door, he noticed the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest. A couple of homeless men loitered across the street, drinking from a shared bottle of cheap whiskey. As he watched, though, a nice car drove by and a gaggle of women, dressed for work, walked by together and into a restaurant with a bar for a happy hour drink. So the neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, merely ‘exciting,’ as a realtor would try to sell it.
He knocked on her door and waited patiently. A table with a mirror above it sat directly across from her door, so he turned and checked his appearance quickly. Not too shabby, he thought as he pushed his hair behind his ears. He’d chosen to wear it down because his hair was almost as great an asset as his smile. The dark skin and blue-black hair he’d inherited from his Native American mother had opened many doors—and legs, if he was honest. But the only woman he wanted beneath him now was Diana.
The jeans and polo he’d chosen to pair with his boat shoes were casual and comfortable, and he hoped she had dressed to match. He didn’t want to feel like a bum next to her, and really, regardless of what she wore, even a potato sack, she would outshine him and most other people in a room.
Travis jerked around when the door opened, and his eyes started at her feet encased in pretty sandals, her toenails a lovely shade of pink, and traveled up her figure. By the time he reached her face, he worried drool had slipped out of the corner of his mouth, which had dropped open as he ogled her perfection.
Her face, breathtakingly beautiful, stared at him and she smirked. “Have you lost the ability to speak?”
“I might be having an aneurysm.” He snapped himself out of his trance with a shake of his head. “You look…”
Diana’s eyes narrowed at him. “I hope that sentence ends well.”
Travis laughed as she stepped out, keys in hand to lock her door. “I’m trying to find the right word, but I’m at a loss.”
She straightened and smiled beautifully at him, taking his breath. “Well, I think you look extraordinarily handsome.”
“Extraordinary!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands. “You beat me to it.”
“You are trying to be charming,” she accused playfully as he gestured for her to walk ahead of him to the elevator.
“I hope I’m doing more than trying,” he answered, watching her ass in the tight jeans she’d chosen. For a thin woman who hated exercise, she had an ass that rivaled a swimmer’s.
When they reached the elevator, she whispered as the doors opened, “Still an ass man, I see.”
Caught, he felt his face redden slightly when they stepped inside. “What?”
“Don’t play! You were watching my ass! I saw you in the reflection of the elevator doors,” she said with a laugh. She tipped her head back as she did so, and he wanted to kiss the column and down to the hollow.
He shrugged good-naturedly, chuckling. “You know me. I can’t help myself when I see a nice ass.”
As they exited the elevator, she allowed him to precede her, and she whistled. “I like to look at a nice ass as well.” She slapped his ass and hissed, shaking her hand as if it hurt. “Your ass is like steel! How often do you work out?”
Travis, astonished she’d slapped his ass, laughed uproariously at her daring behavior. Shrugging again, he leaned close to her as he opened the door to her building. “I use my extra free time to work out.”
Diana shook her head, her eyes twinkling at him. “That’s great! I’m happy for you—and for me,” she added.
He tilted his head at her, eyeing her as if she was a new woman. “Who are you, and what have you done with Diana?”
He opened the car door for her, and before she ducked inside, she leaned close and whispered, “I’m not really Diana.”
Her face was so close to his he couldn’t resist. He let his lips drift to hers and touch lightly, just a brush of his lips against hers. The electric current that passed between them was stronger than he remembered, and he stepped back almost instantly. He watched as her fingers touched her lips and confusion filled her expression.
“What was that?” she asked quietly, her eyes mesmerizing him as she watched him.
“I think that’s the renewal of something fantastic,” he replied, touching her cheek with his fingertips.
Chapter 9
Diana nearly fell into the car after his words, so quickly did she want to put space between them. He was saying the right words, making the right moves, and he damn sure felt like the right guy—like he had when they’d first met. She had loved him so quickly the first time, and the second time she didn’t have far to fall.
She offered him a small smile when he sat down in the driver’s seat. Diana’s stomach fluttered, and she cursed internally as the promise she’d made to herself before he arrived vanished from her mind like a magic trick.
And what the hell was that quip about not being Diana? she asked herself as he turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb, paying attention to the traffic and giving her mind time to chastise herself. And she had slapped his ass like some horny sorority sister at a frat party. She was never so flirty with a man. But, she reminded herself, Travis wasn’t any man. He was Travis. Her Travis, the man she’d fallen for in the blink of an eye at nineteen. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring.
To distract herself from the scent emanating from him, a combination of his cologne that had lingered in her mind for five years and the natural scent that was Travis, she cleared her throat and asked, “So, where are we going?”
“Ah ah ah,” he admonished, wagging his finger at her. “I told you. It’s a surprise.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“The kind I think you’ll like and which will be both fun and educational,” Travis answered, his voice taking on the accent of a Londoner living in the red-light district.
“Too much Cockney to be a professor, Jack the Ripper,” Diana teased, enjoying their banter like always.
“Jack the Ripper? Now that’s ironic,” he mused with a smirk.
Diana’s face scrunched as she tried to find the irony in his comment. “I don’t get it.”
“You will when you see where we’re going,” he promised her.
Her curiosity killing her, she shifted in her seat and looked out the windshield as if their destination were within sight. “How long will it take to get there?”
“Not long at all. Maybe twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes!” she yelped, her voice rising in pitch as well as volume. She lowered it quickly and felt her face heat. “Sorry. That was loud.”
“It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I like that you get excited over small things. It’s so…”
“Childish?”
“I was going to say endearing, but we can use your word if you’d rather,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow at her.
“Shut up.” She laughed. She looked out the window to try and guess where they were going. She knew the area well, had grown up in New Orleans and wandered all over the city in her life, so when they pulled up at a mansion with valets hurrying to open their doors, she immediately recognized the house. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.
“Is something wrong?” he asked instantly, grabbing her hand as the valet opened her door to help her out. “Are you okay?”
“Is this the LaLaurie house?” she asked, aghast and thrilled equally as she released his hand and put hers over her mouth.
“It is. Do you not like it?” His eyes watched hers with concern.
“I do like it! I’ve never been here and have always wanted to come,” she announced, allowing the valet to take her hand and help her out of the car.
Travis looked relieved as he handed the keys to the valet, smiling and speaking quietly to him. He walked around the car and reached for Diana’s hand again, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “I remembered you liked American Horror Story and bet that you’d watched Coven. And where else would a diehard fan go but to the home of one of the most famous
alleged killers in New Orleans.”
“I can’t believe you remembered that, and of course I’ve seen Coven!” she shrieked, trying not to jump up and down. “It’s my favorite season!”
“Well, I’m glad I decided on this.”
“It is terribly morbid that we’re visiting this place, isn’t it?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t judge her for her excitement. She’d read the history of Madame LaLaurie years before the television show made her famous. In fact, she’d read the history of New Orleans and all its famous—or infamous—citizens throughout her life. She loved history, especially history she could visit.
“It is morbid, but it’s also historical, if you’re trying to put a nice spin on it,” Travis replied, pursing his lips as they walked inside. He looked down at her and whispered, “But it’s okay that you like the morbid as well. Many do, or this house would have been torn down a century ago.”
Diana’s gaze was locked on his for a long moment, and of their own will, her eyes drifted as if they wanted to close so he would kiss her again. Half-lidded, she watched as he dipped his head slowly for another kiss.
“Good evening!” a loud voice called, jarring the couple out of their nearly intimate embrace. A woman in the French attire of the early 1800s descended the staircase, waving a fan daintily as if the house lacked air conditioning. “You must be our special guests! We’re so delighted to have you in our home.”
The woman, slightly overweight and with hair that added several inches to her height, descended the stairs gracefully to the bottom floor, gesturing grandly towards them. “As you are our only guests, I’ll be guiding your tour myself. I am the foremost expert on Madame LaLaurie and own this house now.”
Her accent was as fake as her outfit, but the theatrics must have been part of the tour. Diana was both alarmed and charmed by the woman, who spoke about herself as if she were many. She and Travis exchanged a look, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
Diana lifted her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Does she think she’s Madame LaLaurie?”
“I’m not sure, but if she tries any funny business, I’ll protect you,” Travis said.
“As you will see, the house has been updated somewhat for the comfort of our guests, but the furniture, linens, and wall hangings are all original, some having been restored to their pristine condition.” She turned to the two of them. “Have you any questions before we begin?”
“Just one. What is your name?” Travis asked. “You know, in case we get lost and need to call for you.”
“Oh, well, my name is Simone,” the woman replied, her character breaking a little at the unexpected question. “Please, follow me.”
Diana tittered as the actress gestured for them to follow her as she led them to the back of the house, where the private tour would begin. Diana clasped Travis’ hand tightly, her fear of ghosts a real thing as she skittered along as close to him as possible.
“Oh, my God! That was such an amazing place to tour! So many interesting antiques, and that attic? I think I nearly fainted,” Diana exclaimed after they climbed in the car and no one else could hear her but Travis, who laughed indulgently. “Oh, don’t laugh at me. You know how excited I get about things.”
“I do. It merely worries me that death is so thrilling to you,” he joked as he pulled carefully into traffic.
She jerked as she remembered his joke from earlier. “Jack the Ripper! I get the irony now!” She laughed so long she hiccupped, covering her mouth in embarrassment.
“You are so damn cute,” he told her, grabbing her hand away from her mouth to kiss it. “And I’m so glad you finally remembered the Ripper remark. I didn’t want to have to remind you, but I certainly would have if you hadn’t.”
“A good joke,” she admitted, the feeling of his lips still on her knuckles. He hadn’t released her hand, and she didn’t want him to. “So, it’s seven. I’m hoping we’re going to dinner?” He gave her a look that said he was judging her intelligence and found her lacking. “Wipe that look off your face, butthead.”
“Butthead?” he blurted, his laughter interrupting the words. “I haven’t been called that in years.”
“I was probably the last person to call you that, but with affection, of course,” Diana teased, squeezing his hand.
Travis looked at her, a smile on his face. “Of course we’re going to eat. I picked a French restaurant in the French Quarter.”
Diana smiled and tried to remember the balance in her bank account before she offered to buy dinner. The restaurants—especially the French restaurants—in the French quarter were world-renowned for their cuisine and their exorbitant prices. She didn’t feel it was appropriate, though, that he paid for lunch Saturday, their tour at the LaLaurie mansion, and dinner as well. Her account wasn’t bloated, but she would be all right until payday.
“I’d like to pay for dinner,” she announced, smiling. His head jerked around, and his mouth opened as he prepared to argue. She put a finger on his lips to silence him. “You’ve paid for everything so far, Travis. It’s only fair that I pick up dinner.”
“Hmmm,” Travis hummed, eyeing her as they idled at a stop light. “I’ll compromise with you.”
“Compromise?”
“Yes. Let me pay for dinner tonight, and the next time we go out, you can plan it and pay for it if you insist on being a free-willed, independent woman.”
Diana laughed at him as she released his hand and slapped his thigh. “There you go again, pretending to be a butthead. But I’ll accept that compromise. You know why?” Don’t say it, don’t say it, she told herself, but when he looked at her with his eyebrows lifted and a smile on his face, she said, “Because that means you have to go on another date with me.” She wanted to faceplant into the windshield, but he seemed to love her forward behavior.
“I’d go on ten million dates with you, Diana, and I’d pay for every one of them.” He sighed deeply as if hurt. “But you insist on wearing the pants in the relationship.”
“Dear God, are we there yet?” she asked as she flopped dramatically back into her seat.
“Actually, my beautiful drama queen, we are,” he announced as he pulled into a valet station in front of the most famous French restaurant in New Orleans, Antonio’s Restaurant.
Diana nearly choked on her tongue when she saw the restaurant Travis had chosen. Despite the unassuming name, Antonio’s was one of the oldest surviving restaurants in Louisiana, not just New Orleans. The place had been open since 1840, only a couple of years after the demise of Madame LaLaurie. The prices were exorbitant, though Diana had heard the food was absolutely succulent and worth every penny spent. The restaurant boasted the top French cuisine in the city as well as a wine collection that rivaled any collector’s in France.
Thankful they’d made the agreement that she would plan and pay for the next date, Diana gulped as she stepped out of the car, thanking the valet. She put her hand in Travis’ and hoped she was dressed appropriately. She had no idea if Antonio’s had a dress code, but when they walked in, the worry fled her mind. The diners she could see were dressed as casually as she and Travis, though the clothes they wore probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. She had noticed Travis’ clothes were of much better quality than he had worn when they were together, and self-consciously, she ran her hand down her shirt and over her jeans.
“Don’t worry. You are the most beautiful woman in here,” Travis whispered to her while they waited to speak with the maître d.
Diana looked into his eyes, her eyebrows creasing. “Thank you, but I’m not worried.”
“Yes, you are.” He chuckled as they stepped closer to the maître d’s podium. “You were fidgeting with your clothes. You only do that when you’re nervous.”
Her lips pursing as she tried to think of a comeback, Diana took a deep breath instead and looked away from him. “I can’t believe you remember such little things.”
“I remember everything about you,” he informed her,
a secret smile on his face when she looked at him. He broke eye contact as he glanced at the diners and bar patrons and began speaking before she could think of a reply. “Not only are you the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, but every man in the place who can see you has looked, some two or three times, much to the displeasure of their significant others.”
Diana gasped and shushed him as she peered through her lashes at some of the men in the room without catching one looking at her. “Travis! That is absolutely not true.”
Travis snickered as he stepped up to the maître d, ignoring her flustered gaze and comment. “Good evening. Travis Hodges, party of two.”
“Of course, Mr. Hodges, and welcome to Antonio’s. We’re very happy to have you.” The man exuded understated charm with his suit and tie, perfectly coiffed hair, and brilliant smile. Diana had expected a French accent and was somewhat disappointed when he spoke in the New Orleans vernacular.
“And we are very excited to eat,” Travis announced, smiling as the maître d laughed politely at his dull joke. Diana smirked but said nothing.
“We have a lovely table for you and your date near the second-story window overlooking the beautiful streets of New Orleans,” they were informed as the man handed a young woman dressed in black their menus. “Marie will lead you to your table. Enjoy your evening.”
“Please, follow me,” the young woman invited, smiling at them as she turned and led them up a set of stairs to the second floor.
Diana looked around them as they walked, gaping at the opulence of the dining rooms. A quick glance through a partially closed door at the top of the stairs revealed a private dining area which was so fancy her nerves lit on fire. However, the table they were escorted to, while laid out with all sorts of cutlery she had no idea how to use, was pretty but not as daunting as the room she’d peeked into. She wondered if the room was set up for a wedding or bar mitzvah as Travis pulled her chair out so she could be seated.