The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  “Don’t sound so happy about it. I’m not.”

  “No, of course you’re not. You’ve always been too proud to let yourself partake in the pleasures of us mere mortals. I swear, sometimes you remind me of your grandfather.”

  I shrugged. “My father says the same thing.”

  “He’s right. There is a lot of old Lionel Beauvoir in you.” Her blue eyes were piercing. “But I don’t understand your problem, Nicci. What exactly is keeping you from this man?”

  “I don’t know, Val. Something is holding me back; a nagging suspicion about his motives.” I let my shoulders sag. “You saw him with Sammy. Maybe he is just using me for some reason.”

  She lifted my lowered head with her hand. “Let go of your suspicions, my dear; otherwise, you will just end up like Sammy. A cold, calculating woman whose heart is filled with anger. You have too much love in you to lock it away forever. Everything will work itself out in the end, you’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said, wishing that I could make all the doubt inside of me melt like cream into my hot cup of coffee.

  ***

  The following morning Colleen called my phone five times. I had been avoiding all of her text messages for the past few days with the blow-by-blow details of the wedding. Colleen had been dreaming of her wedding day since we were children. She had always wanted a fairy tale wedding, with lots of silver glitter and pink bows. I decided I needed to face the inevitable, and finally answered Colleen’s sixth call.

  “The wedding is set for November second,” she told me, as soon as I answered my phone. “I know that’s soon, but we better do it quickly before I begin to show. Didn’t you get my texts?”

  “Does Sammy know about your condition?” I asked curiously.

  “Oh yes, Eddie told her. I can’t believe how wonderful she has been. She is helping me make plans for Eddie Junior. That’s what we are going to call it if it’s a boy, or Samantha if it’s a girl. Sammy has seen to everything. I haven’t got a care in the world. I think she and I will get along just great.”

  “I hope so.” I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I knew how Sammy operated. If she wasn’t controlling your life, you were probably already dead.

  Colleen’s next statement took all the wind out of my sails. “You have to be my maid of honor.”

  “Colleen.” I sighed, knowing there was no good way to put this. “I’m flattered, really I am. I don’t think I should be in your wedding.”

  “What do you mean, not be in it? You have to be in it. You’re my only cousin. What would people think if you weren’t in it? After all, you arranged the meeting with Eddie. You helped us get together. It means so much to me!” Sobs started coming uncontrollably from my phone speaker.

  “Colleen, you’re being just a bit overemotional.”

  “Emotional my ass!” The sobs suddenly ceased. “You’re jealous, admit it. All the years you wanted Eddie and now I’ve got him. You can’t handle the fact that I’m younger and getting married before you.”

  “I wasn’t aware that this was a competition,” I stated flatly.

  “Fine. Don’t come. Don’t show your face at all.” She hung up.

  That had not gone well. I knew she would call back, again and again, until I relented. And if she didn’t call, Aunt Hattie would. Together, they would hound me until I submitted out of desperation. Men always thought they were the ambitious sex. But I had never met a woman over sixteen or under ninety who didn’t know exactly what she wanted, and got it, too.

  Sure enough, a few minutes later my phone rang again.

  “Nicci, dear.” It was Hattie, all warm and cozy. “What is all this about not wanting to be in your cousin’s wedding? You know your mother and I planned for you two to be each other’s maids of honor since birth. Colleen is heartbroken.”

  “Aunt Hattie, I know this means a lot to Colleen, but—”

  “And to me,” she interrupted, sounding teary. “I was always hoping she would marry well, but Eddie Fallon? I would never have dreamed. Granted I don’t like the way she went about it, and Neddie is furious, but I guess it doesn’t matter. They are so in love.”

  “In love?” I screeched.

  “Why of course, dear. Eddie is ever so attentive, or so Colleen tells me. We haven’t seen much of them, since they spend so much of their time over at Sammy’s. Do you know she already has the whole wedding planned? Made the arrangements and is paying for the entire affair. I know that is not traditional, and your uncle is quite put off by it, but Sammy has been so insistent. We had her over for dinner last night to discuss everything and she just charmed us both. You’ll love the ceremony she has planned. I insist that you take part in this splendid event.”

  “I don’t know, Aunt Hattie.” It was going to be next to impossible to get out of this.

  “I’m just not going to take no for an answer. You can go to Yvonne LeFleur next week for your fitting. But, my dear, you can’t see the bridesmaid dresses until the wedding. I want to surprise everyone. I will tell you that it’s called pink blossom and you’ll absolutely love it. Also, you’ll have to hostess the shower for my girl. After all, you are better acquainted with Colleen’s friends than I am. I’ll help you plan the affair. The second week in October would be good. So, we’ll have to get together soon, say tomorrow, to work out the details. I’ve already started a guest list. I’ll e-mail it to you and you can check it over before tomorrow. I’ll call you in the morning, sweetie.” She hung up.

  I went upstairs, haunted by images of pink blossoms suffocating me. I threw myself face down on my bed just as my phone began to ring again. Knowing it was either Colleen or Hattie, I groaned as I answered it.

  “I didn’t know I had that effect on women,” a deep voice purred.

  I bolted upright in the bed. “David.”

  “I thought I was going to see you yesterday.”

  “Why did you think that? We had no plans.”

  “I see the ice queen is back.” He sighed into the phone. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just telling you that we didn’t make any plans to see each other yesterday.”

  “Lovers don’t make plans, Nicci. They try to spend every moment together. I missed you last night.”

  “David, don’t. Maybe we should spend some time apart.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. I could hear him breathing heavily into the phone.

  “All right, Nicci,” he finally said. “Whatever is eating at you, we better have it out. I’ll be over in ten minutes.” He hung up.

  Eight minutes later, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, he was leaning against the doorframe, scowling. He was barefoot and wearing only a pair of paint splattered jeans. His bare chest glistened with paint and sweat.

  “Now what in the hell is this all about? I thought we had settled things,” he roared.

  “Do you ever bother to get the paint off your body?” I argued flippantly.

  He bounded in the door and stood towering over me. “I don’t understand you, Nicci. One minute you’re all over me, and the next you won’t even give me the time of day.”

  I quietly shut the door behind him. “I spoke with a friend yesterday. She saw you and Sammy dining at a restaurant the other day. According to my friend, the two of you looked quite cozy.”

  “So that’s it! Jesus, Nicci.”

  “I thought you and Sammy were finished. At least, that’s what you told me. For a couple, that are no longer an item, you sure do seem to spend a great deal of time together. With all the phone calls and cozy dinners, anyone would swear you two are still seeing each other.”

  He threw his arms up into the air. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I told you Sammy and I are over. I would never have called you if I were still with her. Yes, we had lunch the other day. What of it?” Without waiting for my answer, he walked down the hall and into the den. I followed behind him. He went behind the bar and snatched up a bottl
e of bourbon.

  I stood by the door, watching him pour himself a glass. “Suddenly you need a drink.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you.” He added ice to his bourbon. “I feel like I need to do something other than argue with you.” He downed the contents of the glass in one long sip.

  “Are you and Sammy finished?” I demanded, keeping my voice calm.

  “Yes.” He banged the glass down on the bar. “Finished with no chance of reconciliation. I want you, not her. I don’t play games, Nicci.” He leaned against the bar, shaking his head. “Your father asked me to stay in touch with Sammy, so I could find out what else she may be planning. I had lunch with her that day to pick her brain about the oil leases. That’s all.” He came around the bar and walked toward me.

  “My father asked you? It figures you are both in this. You bastards always run in packs.”

  “Nicci, you can be so damned pigheaded.” He put his arms around me, and maneuvered me into the hall. “I’ll go home and change. Then I’m going to come back and take you out somewhere nice for dinner. What do you think?” He had a big silly grin on his face.

  “I don’t want to go out with you tonight,” I asserted, squirming in his arms.

  He let me go and headed toward the front door. “Yes, you do. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  When I heard the front door slam, I stomped my foot on the floor. Then the front door opened again. I rushed toward the door, expecting David, but my father came through the entrance, instead.

  “I just saw David leave.” Dad put his briefcase on a table by the door. “He seemed in a hurry. Everything all right?”

  “Did you ask David to keep and eye on Sammy?”

  My father shook his head. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I knew it would upset you.”

  “Next time you want to play James Bond let me know.” I headed for the stairs. “I have a date. I have to get ready.”

  “I just wanted him to make sure Sammy didn’t have any other tricks planned for us. I’m sorry,” my father called.

  I turned and glared at him. “Maybe you trust this man too much.”

  He smiled up at me. “Maybe you don’t trust him enough.”

  ***

  David arrived exactly one hour later. I made my father answer the door.

  “It’s just David,” he complained.

  “I know, but I don’t want him to think that I’m am eager or anything.”

  “Oh, the joys of dating,” he moaned.

  I sprinted up the stairs and hid on the second floor landing.

  My father opened the front door and ushered David inside. I waited for five minutes then casually strolled down the stairs. To my surprise, neither man was in the living room. I followed their laughter down the hallway to the den.

  David was sitting on one of the stools by the bar. He was wearing casual brown slacks and a cream-colored shirt. His dark hair looked neatly combed, and the smell of his cologne hit me from across the room. My father was behind the bar, fixing drinks. Both men looked up when I entered the room. David rose from his stool and I could feel his eyes on me.

  “Well, there she is. Here’s your drink.” My father put a glass filled with ice and bourbon down on the bar next to David.

  David smiled at me. “You look wonderful.”

  I was wearing a casual blue cotton dress that hugged and flattered my trim figure. I had put my hair up, letting a few strategically placed curls fall over my shoulders.

  My father cleared his throat and came out from behind the bar. “Call me next week,” he said to David. “We’ll go to lunch and I’ll introduce you to Lance.” He gave me a peck on the cheek as he walked by. “Have a good time.”

  “What was that about?” I pressed, after my father had left the room.

  “Your father wants to introduce me to your uncle.”

  “I gathered that,” I said sarcastically. “You two are getting very chummy.”

  He leaned back against the bar, his eyes gliding up and down my body. “You look great.”

  I frowned and moved closer to him. “You said that already.”

  “No, I said you looked wonderful. I was using another adjective. I approve. Tight in all the right places and not too many buttons.” He wrapped me in his strong arms. “Maybe we should just skip dinner,” he breathed.

  “No. You said you were going to take me to dinner. I expect to be wined and dined before…. Besides, we are doing this a bit backward. We’ve already gotten to the meat of the relationship, so to speak. Now we are going through the preliminaries of dating.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I take it you aren’t angry anymore.”

  “No, my father explained the situation to me.”

  “Good. Let’s go eat.”

  ***

  Dinner was in a small, out-of-the-way Indian restaurant in the French Quarter. As soon as we entered the door, the owners of the establishment greeted David by name. We were shown to a table in a darkened corner, far away from the other diners.

  “Come here often?” I asked, after we sat down.

  “I came here every day for lunch when I was painting at Jackson Square. I love Indian food. Ever try it?”

  “Not yet.”

  I looked around the dimly lit room. On the walls hung paintings of dark blue rivers and red sunsets, and there was bright red and gold wallpaper that contrasted against the dark green carpet. The room smelled of the exotic combination of cumin and curry. I had to breathe with restraint, to make sure I didn’t sneeze.

  “I’ll order for us.”

  David signaled the waiter and spouted off an assembly of names I couldn’t even begin to pronounce. Within moments, a second waiter was back with a bottle of wine and poured a small amount into David’s glass. David took his glass and swirled it around, inspecting the wine. Then, he gingerly sipped it.

  “Excellent.” David smiled to the waiter who then filled our glasses with wine.

  “Where did you learn so much about wine?” I inquired, while the waiter scurried away from our table.

  “Well, you never learn everything there is to know about wine. You just learn how to appreciate it and how to recognize the different types of wine. I am a novice, really.”

  I picked up my glass of wine. “Why did you swirl the glass around?”

  “I was looking to see if the wine had legs,” he explained. “Legs are when the wine sticks to the side of the glass. Whether a wine has legs or not gives you a good indication of the kind of wine it will be. Here, you try it.”

  I swirled my glass about and saw the remnants of wine hanging on the glass. “I see it,” I exuberantly cried. I had always wanted to be sophisticated about wine.

  “Now, take a sip into your mouth, purse your lips, and draw some air across your tongue over the wine. This allows the vapors of the wine to permeate your nose and taste buds. Some wines taste woody, or oaky, as it’s called. Some wines are fruity and others have more of a tannic or acidic flavor.”

  I did as he demonstrated and he followed suit. We must have looked pretty silly.

  “There are a wide variety of wines. Every country produces a distinctive character in there wine. Personally, I think French wine is the best with some good Italian wines running a close second.”

  “Teach me about wine,” I begged.

  He laughed. “It took me years to learn this stuff!”

  “Just the basics. That’s all.”

  David went into a detailed description of wine. He talked about the different kinds of wines, and how to choose between them. He also gave me some tips on how to impress waiters at snooty restaurants.

  The appetizers came and David tried to explain what I was eating. The way he described it, I thought the food would be terrible, but I was surprised to find I enjoyed it.

  “This is long overdue,” he proclaimed, munching on something called a pakora. “I should have followed the proper protocol for dating and taken you out on a formal date from the very beginning.
”

  “I don’t mind. The other way was more fun. Anyway, if you had asked me out on a formal date I would probably have turned you down.”

  He frowned at me. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. So many of the men—boys really—I have dated bored me to death with formalities and protocols. They just wanted to speed through dinner to get to the part where they got to rip off my dress.”

  “What kind of men did you date?” he chuckled.

  “Not men. Hormonally challenged children. Men have learned from experience that patience is part of seduction. Boys just think patience is a word in the dictionary.”

  David laughed even louder. “Where did you learn to make such a comparison between men and boys?”

  “From you. They’ve all been boys compared to you.”

  He reached across the table and grasped my hand. “I could still turn into a…what was it? Hormonally challenged child, especially when we’re alone.”

  “I’m counting on it.” I winked at him.

  Dinner came amid a flurry of activity from the waiters. Dishes had to be set on fire and rice was served with everything. The food was very spicy, and I needed to chase away the burning in my throat with the wine every time I tasted something new. I made a wide array of faces with every new dish I tried, which made David roar with amusement. The waiters kept filling my wine glass, until David took the glass away.

  “You better drink water instead of the wine,” he advised, setting the water goblet in front of me. “You’re going to get drunk before I get you home.”

  “Why, what did you have in mind?” I asked, emboldened by the wine.

  David just smiled.

  ***

  We left the restaurant after a few hours, filled to the brim with the exotic foods of the east. David’s cologne had given way to the powerful aroma of curry. Fortunately, I had sobered up a little since dinner, but I was still flushed with the warmth of the alcohol, as we walked down the street.

  David led me down the alley next to St. Louis Cathedral where I had first seen him painting. In the shadows of the old church, he pulled me close to him and kissed me. I felt a rush of excitement radiate throughout my body.