The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  ***

  The thud of the music guided us, as we made our way to the grand ballroom. When we stepped through the darkened main entrance, the first thing our eyes beheld was a disc jockey on a brightly lit stage, set up in the center of the ballroom. In front of the stage, dozens of couples were dancing, as a popular hit song pounded from four speakers set up around the dance floor.

  The hostess of the party, BeBe Comeaux, greeted us just after we made our way inside. BeBe was a beautiful, curvaceous woman, with curly black hair and dark black eyes. Renowned for her old family money, and an affinity for shady boyfriends, BeBe was as an esteemed member of the old guard.

  After introducing Michael to BeBe, and exchanging the customary pleasantries, we made our way into the throng of guests. I guided Michael to a bar in the corner of the ballroom, and asked the bartender for two glasses of champagne. After the bartender placed the two crystal flutes in front of us, I picked up my glass and drained it in two gulps. I put the empty flute down on the bar and signaled to the bartender that I wanted another. Michael cleared his throat and gave me a dissatisfied scowl.

  “I just love champagne,” I explained.

  “Yes, I noticed,” he huffed. “But don’t overdo it. There are a lot of important people here tonight. I don’t need you getting drunk and doing something embarrassing.” The bartender arrived with my champagne. I reached for the glass, but Michael took it away from me and placed it back down on the bar. “We had better get you some food to go with that champagne,” he suggested.

  He took my hand and urged me toward the long buffet tables on the far side of the ballroom. I took the plate he handed me and started to make my way down the line of chafing dishes overflowing with jambalaya, crawfish pie, and selections of pasta and seafood. Our plates loaded down with the various Cajun culinary delights, we headed for an empty table. Along the way, I made one more stop at the bar for another glass of champagne.

  “Any particular reason you have an unquenchable thirst for champagne tonight?” Michael situated his chair next to mine. “I’ve got all night, you know. The champagne won’t help; whatever it is, you will still have to deal with it…and a hangover in the morning.” He picked some shrimp off my plate.

  “Are you always a shrink, or do you ever let your hair down and become mortal?” I queried, lifting my glass of champagne to my lips.

  “I prefer the term psychiatrist, not a shrink. And I would have to be blind not to see that being here bothers you. Is it what I said about Sammy?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just being here, around these people. I suddenly feel like I don’t belong.”

  Someone else had told me that once. Perhaps he was the reason I felt so uncomfortable. I didn’t belong, though I had never really noticed how much until that moment.

  “Nicci, of course you belong. What a silly thing to say. You belong here with these people more than I do. Come on, loosen up and enjoy the party.”

  My grip on my champagne glass tightened. “Michael, why do you think I belong with these people?”

  “Because you’re one of them,” he quickly replied. “Your family is one of the well-established wealthy and these are your peers. What are you getting at? I wish I had grown up around people like this. I could have been somebody really important.”

  I set my glass on the table, a little put off by his words. “You don’t think you’re important?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Now who sounds like the psychiatrist? I just meant I could have had it a lot easier than I did. Instead of trying to climb the mountain, I could have started out on the peak.”

  That made me want to say something sarcastic, but I suddenly lost interest.

  Michael nodded to my plate, as he reached for his fork. “Finish your food and then we’ll go dance.”

  I picked at my meal, but the food had no appeal for me. I was just eating to fill a hole. Michael watched over me, nodding approvingly when I had finished my plate.

  He stood up from the table and took my hand. “Now let’s show the rest of the crowd here how to have a good time.”

  As soon as his feet hit the dance floor, Michael was bumping and grinding like a baboon on crack. He grabbed my hand and attempted a few twirls. I almost landed on my face once or twice. Luckily, he caught me before I crashed to the ground. He was trying to appear suave and sophisticated on the dance floor, when he really looked clumsy and inept.

  Thankfully, a break came in the music and I squeezed his hand. “I have to sit down. You’re too much for me.”

  That made him smile. He escorted me back to our table. I plopped down in my chair and waited for the room to stop spinning.

  “I love to dance. Most people say I’m pretty good at it,” he declared, taking his seat. His eyes immediately became distracted by something behind me. “Well, Mrs. Fallon.” Michael immediately stood up.

  I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying to allay my spinning head. I decided it was safer if I didn’t stand up, in case I fell over, so I simply swiveled around in my chair.

  Sammy saw my face and, for a split second, I could have sworn she was pissed. If so, she hid it well.

  “Nicci, I didn’t know you knew our esteemed doctor here. How sweet.” She smiled, baring her fangs.

  “Why yes, Mrs. Fallon. Michael and I met at Colleen and Eddie’s wedding.” I knew the mention of the wedding would jar a few unhappy memories loose for her.

  She just kept smiling. “How is your father, dear? Everyone well, I hope.”

  “Couldn’t be better. He has been very busy at the office. Business is just booming.”

  “I’m glad. He loves his little business so.” She looked away for a moment to the dance floor.

  “How is Colleen?” I posed, knowing the superficial woman would probably embellish the truth.

  “Oh, the poor dear. She is doing better than expected. Falling down the stairs the way she did, I’m surprised she didn’t do more injury to herself. I hired a nurse for a while to care for her. She’ll be back in the swing of things in no time.”

  “And Eddie?” I pursued. “Is he going to be back swinging away soon, as well?”

  That took Sammy off guard. Her smile dropped.

  Michael was taking in the entire confrontation while anxiously fidgeting with his bow tie.

  “Eddie is enjoying school in Italy.” Sammy’s smile was back. “Their architecture program is world renowned and he felt he could get a well-rounded education there.”

  “Really? He had to go all the way to Italy for that?”

  Sammy opened her mouth about to say something, but Michael jumped in between us.

  “Nicci and I have been dating since Christmas. Did you know her aunt introduced us?”

  Sammy gave Michael one of her fake smiles. The kind I had seen her flaunt at numerous parties throughout the years. “Well, I’ll have to let Hattie do some matchmaking for me,” she conceded. “You two make such a nice couple. I hope y’all have fun tonight. Oh, and Happy New Year.” Sammy quickly sauntered away from our table.

  Letting out a loud breath, Michael undid the top button on his shirt and plopped down in his chair. He was wiping his hand over his brow, when out of the corner of my eye, a flurry of bright blue suddenly descended on our table.

  “I saw the whole thing,” Val announced. Dressed to the hilt in a lovely light blue gown that shone against her gray hair, she frantically waved her hand at me. “I don’t know what you said to the mighty silicone one, but you certainly got her feathers ruffled.”

  I stood and kissed Val on the cheek. “I didn’t say anything she didn’t deserve to hear.” I motioned to Michael. “Val Easterling, this is Michael Fagles.”

  “Actually, it’s Doctor Michael Fagles,” Michael corrected.

  Val dubiously inspected the man from head to toe. She then turned to me and raised her eyebrows, disapprovingly.

  “Nicci,” Michael chastised in a curt tone. “I can’t believe you insulted Sammy like that. She
was just being polite by not coming down to your level. Really, I don’t know where you got off attacking her the way you did.” He put his hands on his hips. “Not to mention that she is my patient and one of the reasons I’m doing so well—”

  “Do you have an off switch?” Val cut in. “Nicci and Sammy have a long and very strained history. Don’t stick your nose in affairs that don’t concern you. If Nicci wanted to insult Sammy, then she had a damned good reason for it.”

  Michael’s nostrils flared. “I’ll just go and get some more champagne.” He bolted from the table.

  I sighed, knowing I would be grilled about my behavior later. “Val, that was my date. Play nice.”

  “He’s a little twit. Why are you wasting your time with him?”

  I shrugged and stretched for my champagne. “He has his moments.”

  “Dear, most men have their moments; birth and death. Everything in between revolves around sports and sex. That man will not make you happy.”

  I lifted my flute to my lips. “My father said the same thing.”

  “We both know what we are talking about. Let me go before your date gets back. I would probably just insult him some more, if I hung around. Call me soon, pet.” She kissed my cheek and waddled off into the crowd.

  I sat down at the table, feeling the weight of the evening settling on my shoulders. I quickly drained the champagne from my glass, hoping the effects of the alcohol could relieve my floundering mood.

  When Michael returned, he was tenuously balancing two glasses of champagne in his hands.

  “Is she gone?”

  Nodding, I took one of the glasses from him and drank down half the contents in one swallow.

  He took the chair beside me and pretended not to notice. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I have always had a problem with my female clients getting too emotionally attached. I knew Sammy had been interested in me for some time, and I was concerned with how to let her down gently. You seem to have taken care of that problem for me.”

  I slapped my flute on the table. “I’m sorry about what happened. I guess I’m still upset with her about the whole Eddie situation. Anyway, Sammy has always had a reputation for being interested in young, handsome men. She is said to have quite a stable.”

  Michael chuckled. “I’m flattered by her interest of course, but I don’t think she’s my type. If I weren’t seeing her professionally, that is.”

  “You don’t find Sammy attractive?” I asked, amused.

  “No, she is too blatant with her sexuality. Women like that always make me uncomfortable.”

  “Why?” I had to ask. I had always been under the impression that women like Sammy appealed to most men.

  “They’re always the type of women who are never happy with one man,” Michael explained. “They like to roam when they get bored. I want a woman who will be steadfast and loyal. I can’t risk having a wife like Sammy tarnish my good reputation.”

  I drank from my champagne and turned my attention to the crowd. I did not want to hear about Michael’s requirements for a suitable wife. It wasn’t like I was interested in marrying the man.

  The rest of the evening, we socialized with some other couples we knew at the party. I should say Michael socialized, introducing himself to anyone who would listen, and passing out his business cards whenever and wherever he could. I just stood by him, never once commenting on his crass behavior. I spoke only when spoken to, and made no attempt to engage anyone in conversation. Michael never noticed or commented on my reticence. I had to wonder if he didn’t find it perfectly normal.

  At midnight, he yelled and blew his idiotic paper horn and kissed me half a dozen times. I didn’t protest, nor did I scream or join in the jubilation. When the revelers started singing the song so traditional at New Year’s, I tried frantically to hold back the tears. There was an old acquaintance that I could never forget. Amid a room full of friendly strangers, his was the only face I longed to see.

  ***

  We left the party shortly before one. Michael told me he had tolerated enough drunken people for one night, but I think he had just run out of business cards. He skillfully maneuvered me through the crowds, out of the ballroom, and into his Porsche. We hummed along the wet city streets and headed toward the Garden District.

  A short time later, we pulled in front of a small cottage. It looked as if it had been newly renovated, with a freshly landscaped garden in front. All the old exterior light fixtures had been replaced with shiny new brass ones. Even the brass knocker and door handle looked refurbished.

  I climbed from his Porsche, casually taking in the cottage. “Your place?”

  “Yeah, I bought it about a year ago. Put a ton of money into it. It was a real labor of love, so to speak. What do you think?” He bounded up the wooden steps, which creaked under his weight.

  I beheld the man and his cottage. “It’s very…you.”

  It did remind me of Michael. Something spruced up, to be fancier than it was. A plain, unassuming cottage decorated to look like one of the larger, more impressive residences in the Garden District.

  “You can’t tell right now, but I had it painted in my favorite Mardi Gras colors,” he said. “Dark green and purple.”

  I followed tentatively up the steps, mumbling to myself, “If this is the outside….”

  After he opened the door and waved me inside, a blaze of lights illuminated the entrance hall. There were shiny, pine hardwood floors and new, ornate crystal light fixtures on the walls. The living room to the right of the entrance was small, but had a large marble fireplace in the far right corner. There was a light blue sofa with matching chairs and curtains. The walls had been painted in alternating panels of light blue and beige. The original fixtures and floors had been replaced, making the room look new and sterile.

  “It’s nice, huh?” he eagerly asked, coming up to me.

  I cringed, surveying the room. “Charming.”

  He took me by the hand and led me past the double doors connecting the living room to the dining room. An oak dining room table and chairs sat in the middle of the room. The corner fireplace had been plugged, and Michael had put green plastic plants in the hearth. The fireplace mantle had been painted, to make it look like marble. All of the decorative plaster inlay—prized in many old mantles—had been hidden by several coats of paint and drizzle.

  When we walked into the kitchen, I tried not to laugh when I saw pink cherubs painted above a shiny stainless sink. The countertops had been updated to black granite, and all the appliances were shiny and stainless.

  “Sammy helped me a little. She made suggestions about how to redo this place.”

  “I should have known.” I pointed above the sink. “Pink cherubs. Classic Sammy Fallon.”

  Once back in the living room, I sat on the sofa and I kicked off my heels, while Michael started a fire by turning a knob on the right side of the mantle. I shuddered. A gas fireplace—the ultimate insult to an antique hearth.

  “Sammy insisted on most of this. My mother helped out, too. I don’t like the fireplace, however. I plan on changing it back to the original when I can.” He cuddled next to me on the sofa. “There are some other things I want to do around here, but I just don’t have the time right now.” Michael nuzzled my cheek. “I think what this place needs is a woman’s touch and someone who knows old houses. Maybe you could come by and help when you have the time. I’d love to have your advice on some things.”

  I considered his request, anxious to give the home some refinement. Michael had succeeded in removing every trace of the old cottage’s charm. My parents had taught me to appreciate the art of knowing when to restore and when to replace. Obviously, something Michael had no clue about.

  “I think I would very much like to help you return this home to its former grandeur,” I finally admitted.

  “I love your father’s place. I want a house like that someday. I could put an office in it and work from home. It would be a real sh
owplace.”

  He slid his arms around me, pulling me closer. There were no words or glances exchanged before his mouth pressed uncomfortably against mine. His lips worked their way down to the nape of my neck and around to my earlobe. I didn’t push him away, but I felt no excitement, either. He was being passionate and seductive, but my body was not impressed. No matter how or where he kissed me, I felt nothing.

  “Oh, Nicci,” he moaned. “I have been waiting for this night.” He teased my earlobe with his teeth. “I want you.”

  I made no move to return his attentions. He continued to ply me with kisses as he gently eased me back on to the sofa. Michael grunted while he awkwardly maneuvered himself on top of me, pinning me to the sofa. I found it difficult to take in a deep breath with his elbow jammed into my diaphragm. His hands started massaging my breasts, and I could feel his erection against my leg. Before I knew what was happening, Michael was pulling my dress down to expose the pale skin of my left breast.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He kissed my breast tenderly.

  There is a point in foreplay where you know you had better stop or things will quickly get out of hand. It was at this moment I pushed him off me. I sat up and thankfully took in some deep breaths of air. He smiled, appearing smug. He must have thought I was overcome with passion.

  “Michael, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I gasped, adjusting my dress.

  His smile dropped. “Why not?”

  I eased away from him. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. It’s a big step for me to make this kind of commitment to a man.”

  He shook his head and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’m moving too fast, I’m sorry. I just find you so attractive. I can understand how you feel and I’m not seeing anyone else but you, if that helps.” He patted my thigh. “I’m nervous too, you know.”

  I just smiled, which he took as invitation to snuggle with me.

  “Nicci, I want to ask you something.”

  I warily studied his blue eyes. “What is it?”