by Jan Hudson
Since he had nothing better to do with the rest of his life, he put his suitcase on the chest and dug out the single pair of jeans he’d brought to New Orleans.
* * *
Amy spun the dial on the floor safe, switched the sign on the door to CLOSED, and fluffed her bangs. She turned to find Neil Larkin leaning against the doorjamb, fingers in his pockets, watching her with those arresting eyes. Her own widened appreciatively. If she thought he was handsome in a suit, he was practically illegal in low-riding jeans, white T-shirt, and a Windbreaker the exact baby-blue color of his eyes.
He looked down at himself. “Is this okay? I didn’t bring much for casual wear.”
“It’s great! I mean, I like your jacket. Nice color.”
“My sister gave it to me for Christmas.”
“Oh, you have a sister?”
He looked amused. “I have three sisters. And two brothers.”
“Five brothers and sisters! How on earth did you manage? I have only one sister, and she nearly drove me nuts when we were growing up. Oh, I love her dearly, and we get along okay now, but we’re as different as daylight and dark.”
“We’re all different, too, but somehow we rubbed along fairly well.”
Outside, Amy gave Neil the poppy umbrella to hold while she locked the bakery door. He unfurled the petals and held it over them as they walked the short distance to die Gumbo Shop. To keep dry they had to stay close together, which led to her arm around his waist and his arm around hers. It seemed very natural, she thought as they avoided the puddles. And rather . . . intimate. Which was strange. She was a toucher. She’d always been a toucher. But touching Neil was somehow different. He sort of . . . vibrated. She hadn’t a clue as to why. Maybe it was the drop in the barometric pressure. Or the music in the Quarter.
Her body automatically picked up the beat of the “Muskrat Ramble” coming from one of the clubs, and she jigged along to the tempo. “I just love Dixieland music, don’t you?”
“I’ve never been very musical. Link says I’m tone-deaf.”
“Who’s Link?”
“My younger brother. He’s a singer.”
“Link. Link Larkin? He’s your brother?”
“Yes. Have you heard of him?”
“Of course I’ve heard of Link Larkin. He’s the hottest young country and western singer since Garth Brooks.”
“Who’s Garth Brooks?”
Aghast, Amy stopped and looked up at Neil. “You’ve never heard of Garth Brooks? What rock have you been hiding under?”
He shrugged. “No rock. I stay—stayed pretty wrapped up in my work.”
“What kind of work?”
“I am—was a research biologist.”
“Good Lord. With test tubes and slides and microscopes and the whole schmear?”
“The whole schmear. I . . . was in cancer research.”
“How wonderful! I wasn’t much good in biology. Especially lab. I felt so sorry for the poor little frog that I couldn’t force myself to dissect him. If it hadn’t been for my partner, I’d have probably flunked the course.” She paused and looked up at him again. The haunted expression was back in his eyes. “You said was. Aren’t you doing research anymore?”
“Not since ten o’clock this morning.”
She urged him on toward the restaurant. “I want to hear the whole stoiy. But first we’re going to eat and have a couple of glasses of wine. Ummm. Smell that gumbo. Doesn’t that make your mouth water like crazy?”
“It does smell good.”
“It tastes just as good as it smells,” she said as they went inside the Shop. “Scrumptious.”
A few minutes later they were digging into big bowls of spicy gumbo filled with shrimp, crab, and sausage, accompanied by demi-baguettes of crusty bread. Amy noticed that Neil ate heartily.
“Good, huh?” she asked.
He looked faintly amused. “Scrumptious.”
“What was it like growing up in a big family with three sisters and two brothers?”
“With six of us sharing a bathroom, what was it like? Loud. Hectic. Competitive.”
“But loving, too, I imagine.”
He nodded. “That too.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“Well, my parents retired last year and moved to California to be near my oldest sister, Peggy, and their only grandchildren. Peggy and her husband are entertainment attorneys. My brother Tom has a diving school in Florida.”
“Diving? Like scuba diving?”
“No, like swimming pool diving. He trains Olympic hopefuls. He was a gold medalist.”
“Gold medalist? As in Olympic gold medalist Tom Larkin?”
“He’s the one.”
“Well, what a small world.” Amy grinned. “I watched him on TV. He’s your brother?”
“Yes. And you might have seen my younger sister on TV as well. Sunny Larkin. She’s a network correspondent in Washington.”
“Of course I’ve seen her. She’s dynamite. Wow, and with Link, your family is quite impressive.” She counted on her fingers. “One sister is missing.”
Neil chuckled. “Linda is definitely not missing. She and Link are twins, and she’s his manager. She’s the scrappiest one in the family and the power behind Link’s success.”
“Holy moley. I’ve never heard of so many high achievers in one family. Do you see one another often?”
“It’s hard with everybody scattered all over the country, but we try to get together at least once a year, usually at Thanksgiving.”
“That’s only a month away. I’m sure you’ll be glad to see them again.”
A grim expression spread over his face. “I won’t be going this year.” He pushed his bowl away and drank deeply from his wineglass.
“Why ever not?”
“It would be awkward. I wouldn’t want to embarrass them.”
“Why in the world would you embarrass them? They’re your family, and I’m sure they love you. Even Rachel, who thinks I’m hopeless, is always glad for me to visit.”
He refilled their wineglasses. “But you’ve never done anything as stupid as I’ve done.”
“Oh, no? Ask Rachel. She could recite a list of my dumb moves that would reach from here to Canal Street. Why, the only reason I’m here running the bakery while she’s in Paris is because I got can—” She stopped abruptly when she saw the deep pain in his eyes. She reached across the table and took his hand. “Have you murdered someone? Have you committed some atrocious crime?”
He shook his head. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Then tell me. Tell me about Neil Larkin.”
He gulped another big swallow of wine, but he didn’t let go of her hand. He kept his eyes on the table where he made slow circles with the bottom of his glass.
“Until this morning, I was Dr. Neil Larkin, professor of biochemistry at one of the country’s leading medical schools and, it was said, a sure contender for next year’s Nobel prize for my breakthrough in cancer research.” He glanced up, his eyes haunted by a pain so intense that it sucked her breath away and made her heart hurt.
“Go on,” she said softly.
“After ten years’ work in the lab, I’d found it. A compound that would revolutionize cancer treatment. To put it simply, I devised a substance that attacked and destroyed cancer cells very quickly with no damage to surrounding tissue and with no adverse effects. It was a miracle, Amy. A true miracle drug. God, I’ve never been so excited in my life. I sent copies of my studies to several colleagues around the country, and my findings were to be published next month in the Journal of the American Medical Association.
“Yesterday, I came to New Orleans with my research team and the head of my department to present my paper to America’s most prestigious biomedical conference and receive an award.”
“But, Neil, that’s wonderful!”
His hand tightened around hers. “No, it’s not wonderful.” He tossed off the rest of his wine. “Not a single one of my
colleagues could replicate my research.”