by Deanna Chase
I’d been grateful for the distraction of the weekly beadmaking class earlier that day. Thank God Bea had been there. Her energy calmed me just enough to be able to teach the class successfully. I really wanted to know how she did that. Maybe I should have taken her up on her invitation. When she’d asked me after class to join her for lunch I’d turned her down. I’d already committed to helping out a fellow glass worker in the hot shop making paper weights and goblets. It had been the perfect thing to get my mind off my ghost and my upcoming date. Unfortunately, I’d completely lost track of time. No way was I going to be ready by eight. Kane would just have to be patient.
At the thought of him I practically swooned. It’s a damn good thing I’d been busy all day. If it hadn’t been for that I’d be ready to explode by now. Who was I kidding? I was a walking time bomb, and just the thought of him lit my fuse.
But first I needed a shower. Maybe a cold one. I taped a note to the door, telling Kane to come in and wait in case I didn’t hear him knocking.
Grabbing my favorite green cotton skirt and a black tank top along with my favorite bra and matching thong, I headed to my bathroom, thinking I’d be quick. However, removing the hair from my legs proved to be more important. My quick bath turned into a longer grooming session than normal.
Stepping out of the shower, I spied the Honey Dust. Unable to resist, I applied it all over with a silly grin on my face. After I was dressed, I poked my head out of the bathroom and spotted Kane relaxing on my couch.
I smiled. “Hey there.”
“Hey yourself. Mighty risky asking me to let myself in while you’re in the shower, don’t you think?” His lips turned into a sly smile.
“No choice in the matter. Sorry I’m running late. Grab yourself something to drink out of the fridge. I’ll be out in ten.” I winked and shut the door. Twenty minutes later, my hair and makeup done, I strolled out of the bathroom.
Kane stood up, gave me an approving glance and kissed my cheek. “Nice. Ready for dinner?”
“Definitely.” I took his hand, and we walked toward the door. As I was closing it, a gust of wind kicked up and slammed it hard. “Oh!” I said, startled. “Must have left the window open.” I turned the key in the lock. “Let’s go.”
Kane fell in step behind me. “No, you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Leave the window open. I closed it while you were getting ready. It looks like a storm might blow through, and I didn’t want you to forget about it.” He opened the door to the street for me.
I stopped in the middle of the doorjamb. “You did? Damn it. That’s twice today.”
“Your door slammed like that twice today?”
“No.” I turned around to face him. “My ghost made two appearances. I don’t think he likes you much.”
“Huh?”
“He appeared after you left this morning, and apparently just slammed the door on us.”
“Did you call Ian?” Kane frowned, unhappiness flowing from him.
“No. I was busy and forgot.” His unhappiness dissipated, replaced by relief. I stared at him, confused. “You don’t want me to call Ian?”
“No, not right now, but if you need to fill him in on the details, I can wait.”
“No, no. I’ll call him tomorrow.” And broach how I could get my ghost to be less active. So far Ian seemed to be all about more ghostly action. I was tired of it.
“Good.” He took my hand and guided me through the crowd of tourists on the side walk. The streets were crowded, and we didn’t talk again until we reached the Bourbon Street Seafood House. He spoke to the hostess, who smiled brightly at him. A moment later we were seated.
“That was impressive,” I said, scanning the large line of hungry patrons waiting for a table. “Do you have a standing table or something?”
He laughed. “Not really. Though I do know some of the staff and depending on who’s working, I can sometimes get seated more quickly.”
I glanced over his shoulder at the attractive brunette taking care of another party. “How do you know her?” I took in her tight, black dress and instantly hated her for the slim, curvy figure it showed off. I frowned and studied the menu in front of me.
“Who?” He followed my gaze as I looked up. Spotting the woman in question, he said, “Just an old friend. I’ve known her for years.”
I nodded, trying to appear unconcerned. But I wondered just how good a friend she was and exactly just how much of her he knew. I mentally shook myself. First, I had no claim on this man, though it was becoming clear to me I wanted one, even if my head screamed it was a bad idea. Second, he’d done nothing to warrant my irrational jealousy.
“Oysters?” he asked.
My lips twitched. “I hear good things about oysters.”
He grinned back. “Never tried them yourself?”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
We sat silent for a few minutes, and then I asked him about his college days. He told me he went to LSU, which is where he met Pyper. He regaled me with wild stories of their college adventures. Mostly they were about Pyper. She’d changed personas as often as she changed boyfriends. And girlfriends, for that matter. In their sophomore year Pyper came out of the closet. In her junior year she went back in and, finally, by senior year announced there wasn’t a closet and dated both men and women.
“And you two were best friends through all that?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Pretty much.”
My eyebrows rose, and he shrugged. I guessed that was all I was getting. “How did you meet?” I asked.
“She was my neighbor in the dorm our freshman year. She befriended my girlfriend at the time. Eventually they became an item, and I was left in the cold, shunned by the two most beautiful women in the class,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No!”
“Yep. It’s okay. I had my eye on someone else anyway.”
An hour and a half later, full of oysters, grilled redfish, crab and a shared bottle of wine, Kane paid the bill and led me back onto Bourbon Street. Music blared from nightclubs, drowning out the chatter of the mass of people making their way up and down the street. Kane took my hand, guiding me down a side street away from the crowds. “Would you mind taking a walk?”
The wine had relaxed me considerably, and my hand tingled in his. Even my blistered toe didn’t hurt. “I’d love to.”
He led me down Iberville Street and turned left on Royal. We strolled leisurely, appreciating the architecture, and window-shopped the art galleries and antique stores closed up for the night.
I stopped, studying one building. “Do you ever wonder how the balconies manage to stay in place?” I pointed to the one in front of us. “Look at that one. The balcony is slanted down, and it’s just held on by what looks like L-brackets.”
He chuckled, putting his arm around my waist. “I try not to think about it.”
“Good plan.” We walked a few more feet, his arm still around me. I wondered how the buildings themselves managed to stay upright. Many of them dated back to the eighteenth century and if you looked close enough, you could see the buildings leaning slightly one way or another, or in some cases leaning drastically in one direction. I assumed the buildings themselves held each other up, since they were mostly all connected with shared walls.
My attention shifted to Kane’s hand, which had moved to the small of my back. He stopped beside me, and I did the same, closing my eyes for just a moment to take in the comforting sensation. Kane turned and steered me ninety degrees, causing my heel to stick in the cracked sidewalk.
“Ouch,” I yelped, buckling.
Kane’s quick hands steadied me and kept me from falling. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
“I think so.” I put my foot down, testing the weight on my ankle. Grimacing, I lifted my foot, only applying pressure with my toes. “I don’t think I can walk anymore.” At least, not in high heels.
Concern reached my consciousness before I turned and found it etched on his face. “Sprained?”
“Probably. I need to get some ice on it. Can you call a cab?” I leaned into him.
He reached down and easily lifted me up into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling weightless and very feminine pressed against his chest.
“Uh, okay, but you don’t really think you can carry me all the way back to my apartment, do you?” As romantic as it was, even he couldn’t possibly sustain carrying me that far.
He smiled down at me, “No, just a block.” He took off in easy strides.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
He stopped in front of a beautiful, deep gold Victorian home, trimmed in brick red. I sighed wistfully. “Who lives here?”
He lowered me gently, my body grazing down the front of his. I stood on the top step, both of my hands on his chest. Heat radiated. Leaning toward him, I stumbled and his arms came around me, steadying me once more. “Careful,” he whispered, his breath warming my ear. My eyes unfocused as his lips brushed against my cheek.
“Come on.” He produced a key.
Regaining my senses, I asked, “You live here?”
Nodding, he opened the door and nudged me inside. “We need to get you off your feet.”
I’d forgotten all about my ankle.
The home was a shotgun double. I mentally calculated the cost of such a place in the French Quarter. As I added up the zeros, my chest tightened. I realized I was holding my breath and slowly let it out. I’d known on some level Kane was a man of means, considering he owned a club and building on Bourbon Street. But for some reason seeing his beautiful home made me feel inferior. I’d never had more than just enough to pay my modest rent.
Shaking off the ridiculous feeling, I took in my surroundings. Typical shotgun doubles were originally a type of duplex. The front had two doors, but this place had one covered in shutters, with access to only the left side. It had been converted into a single. The story goes, the homes are named shotguns because a person could open the front door, fire a shotgun and the bullet would sail out the back door without ever hitting any walls. My first glimpse told me this was true. I could see straight through the living room, dining room and kitchen, clear to the garden in the back. Each room was separated by an archway, carved away in the dividing walls. To the right was what I supposed were bedrooms.
“This way.” Kane led me into the pale yellow kitchen and pointed to an island in the middle. “Have a seat.”
I sat, undid my strappy heel and inspected the damage. Not too much swelling, but enough that it would be sore for a few days.
Kane handed me ice wrapped in a towel. “Here, I’ll get you something to drink.”
I waited while he poured a couple glasses of wine. “Trying to get me drunk?”
He grinned. “No, but since no one’s driving…”
“No driving, but walking on this foot, especially while drunk, is likely to permanently maim me.” I picked up the glass anyway.
“I hadn’t planned on you walking anytime soon.”
“Oh, and what were you planning?” I gazed at him through lowered lashes.
“Dessert.”
‘Dessert?”
“Cheesecake, actually.” He pulled a cake plate out of his refrigerator and set it on the counter.
“Oh my God. I think I’m in love.” Cheesecake, wine and Kane all in the same room. I hoped I wasn’t drooling.
Kane paused, mid-slice, and raised his eyes to mine.
Panic seized my brain. “With cheesecake…and wine. I mean, I love both. I’m not in love with it. Obviously.” I cleared my throat. Someone had taken over my mouth. “It’s an expression.”
Kane’s eyebrows rose steadily through my stammering, then his lips quirked as he dished up two plates. Shit. That’s me, the stunning conversationalist. My eyes stayed glued to the dessert, even as he handed me a fork and claimed the stool next to me.
“Cheers.” Kane raised his glass.
“Cheers.” I risked a peek before taking a sip, and then reached for the cheesecake. “Yum, this is wonderful.”
Kane watched me, leaving his plate untouched.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.
“Eventually. It’s more fun to watch you.”
I smiled and began licking the dessert off the tip of my fork. His gaze dropped to my mouth. Slowly I wrapped my lips around the morsel, careful to get every last bit of creamy goodness. Satisfied I had his full attention, I brought a fresh forkful to his mouth and stopped breathing as he used his tongue to mimic my movements. What I wouldn’t give to be that piece of cheesecake right then.
“You’re right.” I swallowed, trying to clear my dry throat. “That was fun.” My skin prickled with the current of desire sparking through him. Suddenly my whole body pulsed with aching need. Mine and his.
“Jade,” he said, his voice a few octaves lower than normal as he gently pulled me from the chair, sending shockwaves to my most sensitive places. His strong muscular arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me tight to his heated body.
It was too much. Too fast. Everything pulsed. The tender flesh of my neck. My taut nipples. Between my thighs. And he’d barely touched me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, intending for some sort of calm, but failed miserably as his fresh rain scent overwhelmed me. An exquisite tremor ran the length of my limbs, and a small moan escaped my throat as it reached my core.
“God, Jade, I’ve been dreaming about this for days.” Kane pushed me against the counter, his lips hungry and searching as they met mine.
Somewhere in the depths of my mind a wry laugh echoed. If he only knew. Pent-up passion exploded and all coherent thoughts vanished when I ran my greedy hands over his rippled stomach and the concave of his narrow hips.
He pulled back just enough to break the kiss. Passion smoldered in his rich chocolate eyes as we held an intense agonizing gaze. His unguarded raw emotion was like nothing I’d experienced before. Desperate need and hunger overpowered something more vulnerable; an aching desire to know me, all of me, and to be known. To love and be loved. It changed everything. My heart swelled and broke all at once as I recognized the familiar ache. An ache I’d buried long ago.
I reached up, tracing the smooth edges of his freshly shaved jaw line. A tiny shiver raked over his skin, transferring to me as he gently nuzzled a trail of kisses down my bare neck and collarbone. I tilted my head, reveling in the tender moment, until his hands found my hips and he yanked me tight against his hard length. Desperate to be closer, feel more, know more, I lifted my injured leg over his hip and pressed into him.
Kane grasped my thigh, pulling it higher, and ran his smooth hand over my silky skin. His mouth assaulted my neck, nipping and sucking, while his merciless fingers teased the sensitive area of my hip and upper thigh. I writhed between him and the counter and buried my hands in his thick wavy hair, holding on as his thumb inched closer between us toward my heat.
Kane’s kisses turned feather-light and moved up my neck. He paused and whispered, “I want to see you. All of you.”
A new shock of desire rocked my core. All I could do was nod.
In one swift movement he lifted and cradled me against his broad chest, striding from the kitchen to a nearby bedroom. Careful of my foot, he lowered me gently and stepped back, staring with burning intensity.
I licked my lips and struggled to maintain balance in the midst of unsated tension.
“I want to see you,” he said again.
Delicious pain raged in his psyche as he held himself back. He was savoring this moment. It made it that much sweeter. I wasn’t wearing much, just a skirt and tank top over my bra and silk thong, but I took my time lowering the zipper until the skirt fell, pooling around my ankles.
His searing gaze fell just below the hem of my tank top. I struggled to maintain an appearance of calm. Overly heated and wet, I wanted nothing more than
to drag him to the bed and wrap myself around him, until everything touched and he’d buried himself inside me.
Instead, my fingers danced around the edges of the cotton tank until he lifted his eyes, silently begging me to continue. Slowly I flattened my hands, gathering the fabric with my thumbs as they moved up over my flat stomach. I paused, cupping my full breasts, watching him as he watched me.
His eyes narrowed as my fingers inched together, pinching one nipple until it stood erect beneath the lace fabric of my bra.
His control, already pushed to the brink, waivered and pressed against my consciousness. A second later it shattered. I quickly pushed the tank over my head, freeing my arms to wrap around him as his mouth clasped on my breast, sucking painfully, deliciously through the thin lace, until I cried out.
“My turn,” I gasped and pulled on the button of his jeans, rushing to push them over his hips. He tore his attention away from my nipple long enough to divest himself of his shirt and kick the jeans aside.
“No fair,” I whispered as his teeth scraped my other breast.
“Hmm?” he mumbled into my flesh.
“I didn’t get to—oh!” His hand had slid its way between my thighs, pushing past the satin fabric. One long finger massaged the slick flesh, gliding into my opening. My knees buckled.
He caught me as a chuckle rippled from his satisfied half-smile. It took him just a moment to free us both of the rest of our garments, and when he laid me back on the bed our bodies melded together in the inferno, pressing, needing, clawing. Desperate to feel his silky flesh inside me, I opened to him, begging with my body to be consumed.
“Not yet.” He pulled back, his body trembling with effort. “Not yet.”
Slowing the pace, he inched his way down my flesh, lips brushing and nipping, until finally he reached my center. His tongue, hot and greedy, sent ripples crashing through me. I whimpered in approval and felt his pleasure wrap around me. Every sensation, touch and emotion intensified. Seconds later his fingers plunged into me. I gasped, clenched the cool sheets, lost in the tide until ripples exploded, electrifying every inch of my being.