Dangerous Kiss

by Michelle Love

  Livia could feel a pulse beating furiously between her legs and was amazed. She hadn’t had this reaction to a man in forever … or ever, if she was being honest. Electricity hung in the air between them. She had to dispel it before she did something reckless. She had Marcel and Moriko to think about here.

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “Hey, you better get in there before all the food is gone. Honestly, they’re like sharks, these people. Fins and everything. The food is really good, too. I hope your boss agrees.”

  Another smile, amused and sweet. “I’m sure he does.” He stood and offered his hand. “Shall we sneak into the kitchen and grab something, then?”

  Trembling, she took his hand—the skin surprisingly soft and dry—and stood. “Okay. But afterward, you have to tell me your name.”

  Their bodies were really close now, and Livia could feel his body heat through her clothes. He trailed a finger across her cheekbone, and Livia shivered. She smiled, but stepped away from him. “I think we’d better get inside.” As much as I’d like to fuck you right here, right now.

  His smile didn’t change and he squeezed her hand. “Of course.”

  “Nox!” They both heard the female’s voice from across the garden. “Nox, where the hell are you?”

  A thrill of panic went through Livia as her companion called out. “Right here, Ambs. Keep your shirt on.”

  I should have known …

  Livia was frozen. Shit, shit, shit. This was Nox Renaud. He smiled down at her and put his finger over his lips for a second before his smile widened into a conspiratorial grin. “I have to go.”

  She nodded and shrugged out of his jacket. “Here, you better have this back. I’m going inside now, anyway.”

  He thanked her, taking the coat, and with a last regretful look towards her, disappeared back towards the direction of the shouting woman.

  “Oh fuck,” Livia hissed to herself. “Way to be unprofessional. Catering one-oh-one, don’t almost kiss the client. Jesus.”

  Her face flaming with embarrassment, she went back into the kitchen and managed to work the rest of the party while avoiding any contact with Nox Renaud or his friends … difficult, but not impossible. When it became clear the party was winding down, Livia hid out in the kitchen and dealt with the clean-up.

  Marcel was all smiles when he came to thank them both. “Liv, you didn’t need to do this,” he said, looking in amazement at the stack of empty, clean trays she was loading into the van. She grinned at him.

  “No problem, boss.” She made herself busy untying her apron. “Did you get good feedback?”

  “Very good feedback. And a somewhat unexpected bonus, which you’ll find in your paychecks. No, don’t argue. Say what you want about the Renaud family, but Nox is a very generous man. He also told me that I was his go-to caterer for the future, which isn’t saying a lot because he rarely entertains guests, but it’s still something.”

  “It is something. It’s a big something.” Moriko kissed Marcel’s cheek and he gave her a hug.

  “Thanks, Morry. He also said he’d be recommending me to his friends and clients. Good guy. Jeez, look at the time. Come on, kids, let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you both a late dinner.”

  Later, at home in bed, Livia could not help but look up Nox Renaud on the internet. She flicked through pages of photos of him, drinking in the shape of his face, the green eyes that looked just as sad in his childhood pictures as in every photo of him as an adult. She traced his face with her finger. In some pictures he had a beard, which made him look even more handsome, she thought. When she began to read about his history—the murder/suicide of his parents and brother, the mysterious death of his teenage sweetheart, the years of suspicion aimed at Nox himself—she learned he’d been thoroughly investigated after the death of Ariel Duplas. Nox was only eighteen at the time and was the only suspect, but the police had completely exonerated him. The piece Livia was reading made it clear that his family’s deaths had broken the handsome young man.

  Since his family tragedy and the subsequent investigation, Renaud has kept a low profile. His luxury food importing business with friend Sandor Carpentier has made him a billionaire, but this has just served to draw more attention and comparisons to other tragic figures. Many locals refer to him as New Orlean’s own Howard Hughes—a reclusive man with a myriad of secrets. Only once a year do we really get to see the man, at his annual benefit on Halloween, but it doesn’t stop gossip magazines the world over wondering about the romantic life of this devastatingly—and some say, dangerously—handsome young man. As he approaches forty, will Nox Renaud ever break free of his past?

  God, I hope so. The thought came unbidden to Livia as she slid her finger over his photograph. Not that it would have anything to do with her, but she had sensed something special in the man she had met—that he was more than just another handsome rich boy. There were hidden depths there, she was sure of it.

  When she went to sleep that night, she dreamed of Nox Renaud and his beautiful green eyes, and of the moment his lips would press against hers.

  Chapter Three

  Amber rolled her eyes as Nox sat down at the table. It was the French Quarter, with busy streets and lunchtime crowds, and the restaurant Amber had chosen was almost full. “You’re late again, Renaud. Where’s the Rolex I bought you last year?”

  Nox sighed, kissing her cheek. “You know I don’t like to wear it out in public. It looks too ostentatious. Not that I’m not grateful for it,” he added, seeing Amber’s frown, “it was a lovely gift. I just don’t know if it’s really me.”

  Amber opened her mouth to argue, then gave up. Nox looked different and had seemed different—lighter—since the party. Amber had wondered if it was just the relief of getting it over and done with for another year, but it had been a week since the party and every time she had seen him, Nox had been happy.

  “What’s going on with you?” she asked him now, and Nox, who was reading the menu, glanced up and smiled at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean … you look different. You look … lighter.”

  “I haven’t lost weight, far from it.”

  Amber rolled her eyes again. Nox was nowhere in the vicinity of overweight. “I mean emotionally. You seem to be carrying yourself more cheerfully than usual.”

  Nox laughed, his green eyes twinkling. “Do I?”

  “Fine, don’t tell me then.” Amber snatched the menu from him grumpily and sulked behind it. Nox smothered a grin.

  “Ambs … you ever have one of those moments in life, however fleeting, where someone or something just reminds you why you’re alive? Someone who sets off a thought process that makes you reevaluate your entire existence?”

  “Is this your fancy way of saying you got laid?” Amber felt a twinge of jealousy go through her and brushed it away. He doesn’t belong to you … he never did.

  Nox shook his head. “No, I haven’t … no. I just had a moment with someone, a woman, at the party. I’d like to see her again, is all.”

  “Really?” Amber ran through all of the party guests in her head, and Nox just smiled and shook his head. “Who?”

  Nox hesitated and smiled ruefully at her. “Can I just have this secret for a little bit? I swear, the moment it becomes more than a … moment … you’ll be the first to know.”

  Amber relaxed. “Of course, honey.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m very happy for you. It’s about time you got your pickle tickled.”

  Nox burst out laughing and Amber joined in, her blue eyes amused. As they ordered their food, she studied her friend. They had known each other for more than half their lives. They’d been drawn together by Amber’s twin, Ariel, who had come home from school one day and told her family that she had met the most beautiful boy in the world.

  She hadn’t been wrong. Nox Renaud was the kind of boy that sculptors made statues of. That strong jaw, those perfectly symmetrical features. Big green eyes. Sensual mouth.
God. More than once since Ariel’s death, Amber had wondered if she and Nox would end up together—mostly out of convenience—but he’d never made an advance and she had never found the courage.

  She had to admit, it hurt a little that Nox had finally shown interest in someone and it wasn’t her, but she could not begrudge her friend his happiness. Amber’s own love life was … complicated. She always kept two lovers at a time, but never let either near her heart. Her beauty, her wealth, her position in society—she didn’t need a husband, which made her lethal to the women of New Orleans, who kept their husbands away from her. Little did they know, Amber wasn’t interested in any of them. What she wanted was far more complex. Far more Nox-like, she told herself, then pushed the thought away. He would never be hers, and she would have to accept that.

  “So, when are you going to make your move?” she asked Nox, who blinked with nervousness. To her amazement, two spots of pink appeared on Nox’s cheeks as he shrugged.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been working on getting the courage up to approach her.”

  Amber almost spat her water out. Nox Renaud—billionaire, drop-dead-gorgeous businessman—was nervous about asking a girl on a date. “Wow. I haven’t seen you like this since …”

  She trailed off and looked away. Ariel was always there, always between them. Amber swallowed the lump in her throat. Nox’s smile had faded and he nodded. “I never thought this day would come, Ambs … and look, no one, no one will ever replace her.”

  “I know that, sweetie, but hopefully someone will mean just as much to you some day.”

  His eyes danced in a way she hadn’t seen for years. “I hope so too, Ambs. I really hope so too.”

  Livia tried to stop thinking about Nox Renaud as she practiced her scales up and down, using the plain rhythm to distract herself. In the week since she’d met him, her body had felt wired, her brain whirling. To have that much chemistry with someone she probably would never see again … it didn’t seem right. She faltered in her playing and then crashed her fingers down on the keyboard.

  “Unless you’re going for some kind of weird Stockhausen thing,” a voice behind her said, “I’m guessing you’re having an off day.”

  Livia turned to smile at her tutor. In the few months she had been at the college, her tutor, Charvi Sood, had become more than just a teacher to her. The two women had bonded over their love of jazz, of Monk, Parker, Davis, and to Charvi’s delight, their mutual admiration for Judy Carmichael, the reason Livia had fallen in love with the genre. Listening to Carmichael’s radio shows when she was living at home with her father, her headphones plugged in to dull the sound of her father shouting drunkenly at the television, she had used the genre as her way to transport herself out of the San Diego heat and here to New Orleans.

  Charvi put down the stack of scores she had in her hand and peered over her glasses at her young student. “You okay? You’ve been in here practicing all week. You can rest, you know. It may be your master’s degree, but rest is vital for brainpower.”

  Livia smiled at her. “I know. I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about a boy. It’s very annoying.”

  Charvi laughed, shaking her head. “It happens to the best of us. Want to share?”

  Livia picked out a tune with her forefinger. “It’s embarrassing. He’s way out of my league and—”

  “Let me stop you there, young lady. No one is out of your league.”

  Livia sighed. “It’s Nox Renaud.”

  That stopped Charvi. “Ah. Well, I would say the problem there isn’t that you’re out of his league, it’s that he’s Nox Renaud.”

  Livia looked at her friend curiously. “You know him?”

  “I knew his mother. I’ve met Nox a few times. He’s … an enigma. At least if you believe the gossip.”

  “He has the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, and he seemed so sweet. Lonely, but sweet. Nice. God, nice is such a bland thing to say, but he was friendly and warm and …”

  “You have an enormous crush on him.”

  Livia shrugged. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we run in the same circles. Forget I said anything.”

  Charvi smiled. “Well now, let’s channel that desire into your playing. Give me something slow and sensual. And make it up as you go along. Think about Mr. Renaud and let your fingers move across the keyboard.”

  At first Livia was embarrassed, feeling exposed, but as her fingers stroked the keys she began to find a melody. She closed her eyes and thought about the feeling of him trailing his finger across her cheek, the scent of his skin, the ocean-green color of his eyes. She played a melody so sweet she wanted to cry, and when she finished and opened her eyes, she felt her face burn red.

  “Wow, you have it bad,” Charvi teased her and held up her phone. “It needs work, but there’s something there. I’ve recorded it and I’ll email it to you. Your homework is to score it and mold it into a piece you can perform at the end of semester recital.”

  Livia gaped at her. “Are you kidding me?” She felt panicky at revealing something so personal to an audience. But Charvi nodded.

  “I’m deadly serious. That was the most connected I’ve ever seen you with your piano, Liv.” She checked her watch. “And I have a seminar. Work on it, Liv, and I swear you’ll see what I mean.”

  Left alone, Livia checked her laptop. Charvi had indeed emailed her the MP3 and as Liv played it back, she realized there was something there. She grabbed some blank score paper and began to write.

  Nox looked up as Sandor knocked on the door jamb. “Hey.”

  Sandor grinned. “You still working? Dude, it’s Friday night. Let’s go out and have drinks.”

  Nox chuckled. “I would, but I’m waiting on a call from Italy. Haven’t you got a date?”

  Sandor shrugged. “She blew me off. I’m kind of relieved, to be honest. I’m getting too old to be dating a different pretty girl each week.”

  “My heart bleeds for you. So, I’m your consolation prize?”

  Sandor grinned. “Yup. Grab your cell phone and take the call on that. We’re going drinking.”

  Nox hesitated. “All right, but let’s go to the French Quarter.”

  “Wanna mix with the tourists? Come on then.”

  An hour and two shots of bourbon later, Nox relaxed back into his seat and glanced around the bar. He hadn’t told Sandor that the bar he’d chosen was across the street from Marcel Pessou’s restaurant—or that ever since they’d gotten here, Nox had been looking for any sign of Livia. He hadn’t had one night of peace since he’d met her.

  The feel of her soft skin, her huge chocolate brown eyes, the way her tawny hair fell in messy waves over her shoulders; it all haunted him. The faint flush of pink when he’d touched her face. He’d been so close to kissing her—which would have been entirely inappropriate. But, God, the feelings he had thought he’d never feel again were whirling and thrashing through him like a storm.

  He had to see her again—to see if the connection between them hadn’t been just that moment in time. To see if it was real, tangible, and something they could build on. Also he really, really needed to kiss her gorgeous pink mouth—it was driving him crazy.

  “Nox? Buddy?”

  Nox blinked back into the present. “Sorry, what?”

  “I was saying, I was talking to Roan at the party. He seems pretty keen on working with us on the Feldman project.”

  Nox snorted and sipped his bourbon. “What does Roan know about the luxury food trade?”

  “Nothing, but he does know about the shipping trade,” Sandor gave Nox a reproachful look. “Look, I know you think he’s a playboy, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Besides … he wants to buy his way in.”

  “What?”

  “He told me he wants us three to go into business together. He wants in on the company.”

  For the first time that night, Nox stopped thinking about Livia, leaning forward to study his friend. “How come he hasn’t said an
ything to me?”

  Sandor chuckled. “Because he knows you think he’s a playboy. He’s your best friend, but there’s always been the joker in the pack, and it’s always been Roan. He was feeling me out in the hope I’d do the approach. So, I am. I think it’s something we should talk about. He wants to impress you, buddy, is all.”

  Nox considered. “I’m open to talking about it, certainly.”

  Sandor smiled. “So, I can tell him yes?”

  “Talking about it, San. Nothing more at this stage.”

  “I love it when you get masterful. Another drink?”

  “Go for it.”

  Nox leaned back, his eyes flicking automatically to the restaurant on the other side of the street. He could see the pretty Asian girl who was working with Livia at his party waiting on tables, but there was no sign of Livia. He thought about what Sandor had said. Roan was Nox’s oldest friend but he was also someone who acted on impulse—he would best be described as reckless. Nox had worked too hard on the business, and not even his love for his friend could override the fact that Roan was not a good bet. Nox rubbed his eyes. Maybe he should loosen up, take a risk.

  Take a risk … His mind went back to the lovely girl he’d met at his party. Yes, he would take a risk. Enough of skulking like a creep across the street. Tomorrow, he would go the restaurant and ask for her. If she wasn’t there, he’d leave his number. If she was there …

  He was still smiling when Sandor returned with the drinks.

  It was after midnight when Livia left the practice rooms, and as she didn’t have enough cash on her for a cab, she decided to walk home. When she got back to the French Quarter, she decided to go the restaurant and see if Moriko wanted company on her walk home.

  As she turned into an alley leading to Bourbon Street, she suddenly felt herself being jerked back, and a heavy arm locked around her throat. Shocked into action, she threw her elbows back with all her strength, cussing and screaming at her attacker. “Get off me, motherfucker!” She slammed her fist back into the man’s groin and he groaned, releasing her.