"—even for you."
"What?"
"I said: that's pushing the limits, even for you. Didn't you stop to think of the potential consequences at all before you said yes?"
"The only thing I was thinking at the time was that Nathan asked me out to dinner."
"Mm-hm. And where exactly were you when he asked?"
In his bed, drowsy with sleep and sated with sex—but I didn't tell Jacqui that. "It doesn't matter. And I didn't know where he wanted to take me until he told me this morning."
"And you weren't thinking clearly enough even then to tell him what a bad idea that was?"
I lowered myself to the upholstered chair and tilted my head back, staring at the detailed fresco on the ceiling above me. My long sigh was answer enough for Jacqui, and her own sigh was all the response I needed.
This was a bad idea. Worse than bad. But I'd sensed Nathan's excitement when he said he had reservations tonight and I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I wasn't sure why he seemed so determined to go to that particular restaurant when there were literally hundreds of fine dining options within a twenty-mile radius of us. Was he trying to impress me? I couldn't imagine why he'd feel the need to do something so foolish but even if he did, why did he have to pick there? Yes, it was well-known and had an international reputation for its aqua blue facade and genteel atmosphere and superb cuisine. It was also renowned for its location right here in the Garden District.
Just two blocks from where I lived.
This truly had disaster written all over it.
"You need to cancel, cher."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. It's easy. You just pick up the phone, call him, and tell him you can't make it."
"But I can't, Jacqui. I just—" I sighed and pushed to my feet. "He was so excited about getting a reservation. I don't want to disappoint him."
"Tell him it's nothing more than a tourist trap and you don't feel like dealing with the crowds."
"He won't believe me."
"Then you better think of something because you're just asking for trouble if you go through with this."
I shook my head, more to convince myself since Jacqui couldn't see me. "No, it'll be fine. It's a Thursday evening, it won't be that bad."
"You keep telling yourself that, cher. And what are you going to do when you run into one of your daddy's business associates? Or your father himself?"
"That won't happen. Daddy has one of his meetings and you know they always run late."
"Because they all tend to go out for their bourbons and Scotch to pat themselves on the back for working so hard."
I ignored the bitterness in Jacqui's voice, along with the urge to agree with her. My father's business interests were many and varied and while I knew he had worked hard when we were younger, most of his work now involved shuffling things around on paper or, more often than not, having one of his staff members do it for him.
"It'll be fine," I repeated. "I'm sure of it."
"At least tell me you were smart enough to meet him there instead of having him pick you up."
"Yes. He wasn't happy about it but I made some silly excuse about parking."
"Hmm. I just hope you know what you're doing. And you know I'm here if you need me when the shit hits the fan, cher."
"I know but it won't come to that. Just remember to clear your calendar for tomorrow and Saturday. Marie's coming home tomorrow afternoon and I have things planned for just the three of us."
"The three of us? What about your hockey boy?"
I grabbed one of the discarded outfits from the bed and held it in front of me, studying my image in the mirror as I answered. "Nathan will be on the road for his games and won't be back until Saturday night."
"At which point, Marie and I will be relegated to the corner."
"I would never—"
"I know you wouldn't, cher. Just be careful tonight and remember that I'm here if you need me."
I ended the conversation by assuring her again that everything would be fine and I was even proud of how convincing the words sounded. Jacqui didn't believe me any more than I believed myself but there was nothing I could do about that now except cross my fingers and hope I didn't run into anyone I knew.
But honestly, how bad would it be if I did? They wouldn't know who Nathan was, would have no idea that he was one of Daddy's players. And I had seen Nathan in a suit, several times in fact. He wore one like he was born to it, with the expensive blends tailored for a perfect fit. He looked a hundred times better in a suit than a lot of Daddy's friends did. If we happened to run into anyone I knew, Nathan would fit in perfectly.
Was that why he was insisting on this night of fine dining? Was he trying to impress me? But why on earth would he want to do such a silly thing?
The haunting thought stayed with me during the short walk to the restaurant, taking my mind off the regret of refusing Nathan's offer to pick me up. It wasn't a long walk by any stretch of the imagination but navigating the uneven ground in high heels wasn't one of my favorite things to do. At least the humidity had lessened during the last few days and I wouldn't arrive at the restaurant with my makeup melting from my face. I'd still have to freshen up but I'd have plenty of time to do that before Nathan arrived.
Only I must have miscalculated the time because Nathan was standing outside waiting for me. I paused, my pulse racing as my thirsty gaze drank in the sight of him.
His dark hair swept past the collar of his expensive suit, the thick waves slightly tamed from the tousled style I was so used to seeing. A few stray locks fell over his forehead, adding to the alluring planes and angles of his chiseled face. The shadow of whiskers darkened his jaw and I was secretly glad he hadn't shaved the soft scruff I had come to adore.
I lowered my gaze, taking in the broad shoulders and trim waist. The strong hands and long fingers and even his sculpted wrists. I'd never realized wrists could be muscular or sculpted but his were, no doubt from the years he'd spent on the ice, wielding his stick.
Heat filled my face as images of Nathan wielding an entirely different kind of stick filled my mind with crystal clarity. My traitorous heart leapt against my breastbone and raced with excitement as I contemplated every tiny—and not so tiny—detail of those images.
He must have felt me staring at him because he turned, his mouth curling in a genuine smile of appreciation. An older woman who had been approaching from the other direction stumbled and she did a doubletake in Nathan's direction, no doubt caught off guard by the sight of that crooked grin.
No, not just the grin. The whole package. Everything about him.
I bit back my own smile along with the urge to tell the matron to keep walking, to tell her he was mine.
Mine.
I knew I was in trouble as soon as the thought entered my mind—not because I wanted to rail against the thought, but because I wanted him to think the same thing about me. I wanted him to make me his as much as I wished for him to be mine.
Yes, I was in trouble.
And I didn't care.
How could I, when I saw appreciation flare in his eyes? When the blue of his piercing gaze darkened with hunger and need and want? When all of that hunger was focused on me?
Had something changed between us in the last few weeks? Had we both somehow become more attached than either of us had planned? Or was I merely fulling myself, losing my senses to an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking? I wasn't sure and to be honest, I didn't really care. Not now, when Nathan was approaching me with that sexy smile and hungry gaze.
He reached for my hand and my fingers automatically tightened around his. My breath caught in my chest and my skin pebbled with excitement when he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving mine as he brushed his mouth against the back of my hand before tucking it in the crook of his arm.
"You're beautiful."
I blinked. Nodded. Looked down at the simple emerald green cocktail dress I'd chosen then almost made some silly comment
about throwing on something old. But I didn't. I couldn't, not when I'd nearly torn apart my entire wardrobe looking for the perfect outfit.
Every agonizing minute trying on dress after dress had been worth it just to have him look at me that way. Like he wanted to do nothing more than peel it off me—something I'd gladly let him do.
"Are you ready?"
"Hm? Oh." I cleared my throat and hoped he would blame the flush staining my cheeks on the heat of the evening, even though it really wasn't that hot. "Yes. Of course."
He led the way inside and approached the maître d', a man I'd seen at least a hundred times and one who was adept at correctly interpreting the subtle shake of my head when he started to greet me by name. Nathan had chosen this restaurant for a reason, whether it was to impress me or for something else entirely. Whatever his reasons, no matter how silly I might think them to be, I didn't want him to think his efforts had been wasted.
We were led to a table dressed out in white linen and fine china. I bit back a smile at Nathan's small frown when the maître d' pulled my chair out before he could. I nodded my thanks as he draped the napkin in my lap then accepted my menu as Nathan was seated.
Our water glasses were immediately filled. Soon after, we were asked for our drink order and Nathan chose a delicate white wine that was more expensive than I expected him to pick.
He reached for his glass of water and took a small sip as he studied the menu. "I've heard a lot about this place. Is the food here as good as they say it is?"
"Um..." I shifted in my chair, not sure how to answer. I was still trying to figure out what to say when Nathan looked up, his gaze catching mine. One corner of his mouth curled in a smile that danced in his eyes.
"I'm not stupid enough to think you've never been here before, Addy."
"Well, it is kind of a landmark."
"And pretty much around the corner from your house."
"Well, yes."
"And I'm guessing you've been here enough that the maître d' knows who you are." His smile widened as he motioned toward the front of the restaurant. "I saw you shake your head at him."
"Oh. I thought I was being discreet."
"You were. I would have never noticed if I had been able to keep my eyes off you."
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again but the only thing that came out was a whispered, "Oh." Nathan's answering chuckle surprised me nearly as much as the sudden shyness washing over me, especially when he reached for my hand across the table and threaded our fingers together.
"Why were you so worried about saying something?"
"I don't know. I thought you were trying to impress me and I didn't want to disappoint you."
His gaze dropped for a few seconds then returned to mine. I didn't miss the way his fingers briefly tightened around mine, or the faint flush that colored his cheeks. "Maybe impressing you is part of it. But I also wanted us to enjoy a nice night out. Just the two of us."
"We can do that without the expensive restaurants."
"I'm not worried about how much it costs, Addy. Dinner won't exactly take me broke."
"I didn't think—"
"I know." He ran his thumb over my knuckles, tracing tiny circles against my skin. "But I didn't even stop to think that you might run into people you know here. We can leave if you want—"
"No." I tightened my fingers around his and shook my head. "No, we don't need to leave. It doesn't matter if we run into anyone or not."
"Are you sure? I don't want to create any potential problems with your father if he finds out."
"He won't. And even if he does, it doesn't matter. All he'll hear is how I was having dinner with the handsomest man in New Orleans."
Nathan laughed, though I wasn't sure if it was from my determined proclamation or my exaggerated drawl. Maybe both. He squeezed my hand then sat back, once again studying the menu as I studied him. I'd meant the compliment as a jest of sorts but that didn't detract from their truthfulness. Nathan was the handsomest man in New Orleans, the only man who'd ever caught my eye the way he had. The only man who'd ever made me feel the way I felt with him.
Yes, I was definitely in trouble. Maybe more trouble than I could handle because I was very much afraid I was falling in love with the rugged hockey player across from me. How was that even possible? We hadn't known each other long enough for me to fall in love with him. We were only supposed to be having fun. That was it, nothing more. Just fun.
Only it had become more to me. He had become more to me. I couldn't pinpoint when, wasn't even sure if it mattered. I didn't expect anything from Nathan. I couldn't, not when I knew this was just a fling for him. A distraction.
And I wasn't about to waste time worrying about it tonight, not when I could be enjoying Nathan's company instead.
I settled down to do just that, finally relaxed enough to enjoy the sheer pleasure of being with Nathan by the time our appetizers arrived. Time went by too fast, though, and my thoughts were racing ahead to later. Would Nathan ask me to go back to his place? Should I be bold enough to just invite myself? I wasn't sure why I was suddenly doubting what would happen after dinner. I didn't understand the oddly unsettled feeling that had been growing stronger as we each finished our entree and studied the dessert offerings.
I looked over at Nathan, ready to tell him how silly I was being, knowing he'd make light of it and say something that would have me laughing at my foolishness. But Nathan wasn't looking at me; he was looking at something over my shoulder. The color drained from his face and his shoulders stiffened and tensed under the lines of his tailored suit. The tiny ball of dread in my stomach expanded a hundred times over, pushing against my ribs and robbing my lungs of the ability to breathe. I didn't want to look. Told myself not to look. If I didn't look, I wouldn't be able to see what had caused the sudden change in Nathan.
But I couldn't stop myself from turning in my chair any more than I could stop the sudden nausea welling in my stomach. I stared up at the man hovering behind me, his lined face wreathed in fury as he glared at my date.
"Daddy!"
Chapter Nineteen
Addy
"You're not to see that boy again."
I stared at my father, seething with fury as he issued the command from his throne behind an expanse of polished mahogany. He couldn't even be bothered to look at me, his gaze instead focused on the papers spread in front of him. Part of me wondered if he realized I was still there or if he had already dismissed me, expecting me to slink away without a word.
I curled my fingers into my palms, my nails digging into flesh as I struggled to control a temper I hadn't realized I possessed. Daddy and I had butted heads before but nothing like this. And I had never really stood up to him before either, not when it was easier to just placate him by doing what he wanted before skipping off to do my own thing—things he dismissed as easily as he dismissed me.
My passion for drawing and designing that he knocked down as a useless hobby while insisting I learn how to be a competent hostess.
My acceptance into design school that had been summarily rejected in favor of a more prestigious university to pursue another degree that I had yet to make use of.
Friends that I had made over the years, the people with whom I had so much in common who had been dismissed with a casual wave of a hand and the judgment that they weren't worthy.
The clothes I wore. The books I read. Every little interest I had—none of it was good enough. No matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to measure up to Daddy's standards.
Standards I didn't even know how to measure up to because I had no idea what they were. No matter what I did, it would never be good enough. No matter what I did, I was destined to disappoint the man in front of me.
I pushed away the self-pity washing over me, not liking the way the unaccustomed sensation felt. Maybe I'd curl up in a ball and pout later but not now. Not when I had so much to say.
"No."
The single word shattered the
heavy silence of the room and hung in the stifling air between us. My father's shoulders stiffened and he slowly, carefully, placed the fountain pen in its intricate holder before raising his head and staring at me.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no. I'm not a little girl anymore, Daddy. I have my own life that I want to live on my terms."
"And you're living that life, Adelaide. With my support, I might add."
"I'm not—"
"I haven't said a thing about that ridiculous job you have. I haven't made a single comment about that woman you call your best friend."
"Her name is Jacqui and you don't need to say anything, not when I see the judgment on your face every day. Not when I hear the comments you make about what I do, like you think it's just a passing fancy I'll get bored with before moving onto something else."
"Of course you'll get bored. In another year or two, you'll move on and be ready to settle down. You'll marry and have children and—"
"No, Daddy, I won't. Not unless I want to. And right now, I don't want to."
"You'll change your mind. As soon as you meet the right man. In fact, I spoke with Quinn's father and we both think—"
"Daddy, listen to what you're saying! This is the twenty-first century. You can't just force me into some arranged marriage like it's a business venture."
"There are all sorts of mergers in our world, Adelaide. Don't be so foolish as to think there isn't."
"There's not. Not for me. And especially not with Quinn. The man is a slimy snake—"
"He's done nothing to deserve that kind of talk."
"Nothing? Nothing? You can't be serious, Daddy. Those stories about him—"
"Are nothing but malicious gossip, and we don't indulge in gossip."
"You don't believe that. Please tell me you don't believe it. Has Mr. Harding really convinced you that's all it is? Just gossip?" I folded my arms in front of me and rubbed my hands along my pebbled flesh to ward off the sudden chill. "Even you can't be that blind, Daddy."
He tensed and for one brief second, I thought I saw a shadow cross his eyes. But he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a flat determination that sent another chill sweeping over me.
Rule Breaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 1) Page 12