His Brown-Eyed Girl (A New Orleans Ladies Novel Book 2)

by Liz Talley

  She couldn’t hear their words, but it looked as if all was taken care of. Still, she didn’t turn and leave. Instead she stood like a moron, craving Lucas, wanting to see him one more time before she slid into her lonely bed.

  Pathetic.

  She wasn’t too far from being Tara.

  The woman had watched Lucas like a vulture sitting on a fence post the entire time they were in the kitchen. When Lucas had come back from walking her out, Addy could tell something had gone on. The man had a swipe of shimmery lip gloss on his upper lip and he’d worn the sort of look a man wore when he’d been thoroughly kissed. Something had shriveled inside her when she’d seen him mussed and perhaps turned on. She suspected it was the small bit of hope she’d nurtured when it came to Lucas.

  At that thought she willed herself to turn around and go back to her house.

  “Addy,” Lucas called softly across the drive.

  She turned her head. “Yes?”

  He jogged toward her, wearing a worn pair of pajama bottoms, a white T-shirt that stretched deliciously across his broad chest, and a pair of moccasin slippers. “Wait a sec.”

  She turned fully toward him, trying to control her chattering teeth. “It’s cold. I don’t have shoes.”

  “Yeah, a little chilly. Hey, I’m sorry Michael woke you.”

  Her eyes came level with his chest. She didn’t lift them. She wasn’t sure if it was because she couldn’t look away from the muscled breadth or if she didn’t want him to see the desire in her gaze. “He didn’t. I had slipped down for some tea. Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You, too, huh?”

  She lifted her gaze, trying to control her chattering teeth.

  “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he said, reaching out and rubbing her upper arms. “You need to get inside. Here, let me walk you.”

  “You don’t have to.” But his hands felt wonderful on her arms. She longed to step into him, have him wrap his arms around her, but she didn’t want to look like she’d come out for a chance encounter with him. Didn’t want to come across Tara-like, ready to sink her claws in a cowboy.

  Maybe she shouldn’t think so much. Maybe she shouldn’t try to control every aspect of her life. Why not invite him inside? Maybe it would lead to a kiss. She’d really like to kiss him. Or maybe it would lead to a cup of tea. Period. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “I’d love some.”

  She walked back to her aunt’s house, trying to rationalize her being a good neighbor. Wasn’t like inviting a man in his pajamas inside for tea was code for bend me over the breakfast table and do me. It was just tiny little leaves and scalding hot water. She needed to get a hold of herself… and her libido.

  Damn book.

  “I like the retro feel of your kitchen,” he commented, sinking onto a kitchen chair. He looked so large sitting at the small table. So male. So beautifully male.

  “Thanks,” she said, turning the flame on under the kettle that still felt warm. She picked it up and poured water over the tea bag. The aroma bloomed up in a cloud of steam. “Sugar?”

  He nodded so she scooped some into the cup, stirred and took it to him. Lucas took the cup, set it on the table, and pulled Addy into his lap.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders so she didn’t tumble onto the floor.

  “You know, I didn’t really come in for tea.” His voice sounded like sex. She shivered but it wasn’t from the residual night air.

  A conga line of hunger began dancing in her belly. “You didn’t?”

  She leaned a little closer, inhaling his scent. He smelled so good. Like woodsy cologne mixed with a wonderful maleness no one could bottle. Just a warm, clean yummy smell that made Addy want to nestle her head into his shoulder to draw in more of him.

  He slid his hands up her sides, making goosebumps sprout on her arms. “Drinking tea was an excuse to come inside and warm you up. Just being neighborly and all.”

  “Just like you were being neighborly with Tara earlier? Cause I could have sworn you warmed her up, too.” Damn it. She closed her eyes, admonishing herself for playing the jealous idiot. Who said stuff like that? Insecure little girls. That’s who.

  “Tara?”

  She opened her eyes and saw his smile. He teased her. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Not well done of me.”

  His arms closed around her, pulling her tighter to him, warming the cool flesh beneath the thin gown. “I’m not interested in Sheldon’s mom, but I like that you’re jealous. Tells me what I want to know.”

  She arched an eyebrow, trying for cool but knowing she failed. She was a hot mess of insecurity and trembling horny woman. Not a good combination in a moonlit kitchen. After midnight. With a cowboy in pajama pants. The intimacy of hard male beneath the worn, thin flannel did dangerous things to her. “And what’s that?”

  “You want me the way I want you.” He slid one arm between her shoulder blades and cupped the back of her head, bringing it down toward him.

  Addy let him because he was right. She wanted him. Maybe she had some residual horniness from reading about Sophie and Cade getting it on. Or maybe it had been too long since she’d had a man hold her, care about warming her up. Or maybe ever since she’d laid eyes on Lucas Finlay she’d wanted to also lay her hands on him.

  Didn’t matter because at that moment she didn’t care about why. She cared only that he touched her.

  Resting her hands on his shoulders, she tilted her head and settled her lips against his, tasting him for the first time.

  Wonderful liquid heat poured into her as he slid his free hand up her rib cage, grazing her breast, to cup her jaw and tangle his fingers in her loose hair as he coaxed her mouth open. He slid his tongue inside, and she sank into him.

  After several seconds, Lucas pulled back, breaking the kiss. He leaned his forehead against her chin and sighed. “Just as I imagined.”

  “What?” she whispered, inhaling the scent of masculine shampoo and something uniquely Lucas.

  He tilted his head back so he could look her in the eye. “You taste like mountain rain.”

  “How does that taste?”

  He laughed low in his throat and pulled her lips back down to his. And then he kissed her again. And again. And again.

  By the time the kettle whistled, Addy straddled Lucas, her gown bunched around her thighs, her breathing out of control. The man devoured her, his hands roaming her body, delicious against the thin cotton of her nightgown.

  His touch was more real than mountain rain, better than expensive chocolate… better than the first bloom of her great grandmother’s peace rose.

  “The kettle,” she murmured, dropping her head back as he kissed his way down her neck to the eyelet trim lining the square neck of the gown.

  “Hmm?” he murmured against her skin.

  “Kettle.”

  He released her. “Go turn it off but come back. I want to taste you some more.”

  She’d never moved so fast. When she returned, she plopped right down in his lap and drew his head to her, seeking his lips. For several seconds, she reveled in the fuel spilling into her belly, revving her, making her forget every admonition about leaving Lucas Finlay alone. When she broke the kiss, it was only to drop her head back so he could slide his lips down her throat.

  She groaned as he met her unstated request.

  “Ah, that’s a girl,” he groaned, resuming his work at the sensitive base of her throat as his hands moved to cup her bottom before alternating with caressing her back and thighs.

  Her answer was to rub against him with a delicious friction that made the ache between her legs painful. This was exactly what she needed. She wasn’t sure if a pack of wild horses storming the kitchen could stop what was happening.

  Okay, yes, wild horse could likely stop it.

  But she didn’t foresee a herd of mustangs breaking into her kitchen. Maybe Aunt Flora, but not horses.

  Aunt Flora.

  She stiffened beneath the heat
of his mouth on her shoulder. “We have to stop.”

  “Shh,” he said, nipping her collarbone. “Just gimme a few more seconds of you. After all I have to join Mittens, the meanest cat this side of the Mississippi, in bed.”

  She grinned at the image of Lucas sleeping with that mean calico. “I could make an inappropriate innuendo.”

  He chuckled and pressed his head against her breast, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her against him.

  Passion still throbbed, but he seemed to understand that it was neither the time nor the place for anything more.

  Neither of them said anything, just sat pressed contentedly into the other, Addy’s gown rucked up, Lucas’s heart racing. Finally she pulled back, pushing her hair from her eyes. “Your tea’s probably cold.”

  “Again, I didn’t come for the tea,” he said, his dark eyes moving over her face.

  Addy realized she straddled him so she shimmied from his lap. “I can’t believe I just mounted you like a sex-starved spinster.”

  “Spinster? What is this? The 1900s?” He winked at her. “And I was about to say I could come over for tea every night.”

  Addy slid her hand over her warm face. “Well, if I start offering tea like that every night, I’m going to have problems.”

  “I bet you’re a good problem solver,” he said, his teeth flashing in the moonlight.

  “You’re a flirt.”

  He stood. “Nope. I’m a mean rancher.”

  He made her feel like it was normal to climb a man every time she invited him to tea. “You look mean, but you’re really a sweetheart.”

  “No way,” he joked, drawing her back into the circle of his arms. “I’m nasty. I smack around kids and trip old ladies crossing the street.”

  “I saw you scoop an inch worm off the steps and put him on a bush so he wouldn’t get squished by small feet,” she murmured, looking up into his face. “You’re a hoax of a mean man.”

  Lucas dropped a kiss on her nose. “When I have time, I’m going to show you what kind of man I am. But tonight I have three children I need to get back to.”

  Addy shook her gown so it covered her legs and took satisfaction that he had to adjust himself within the pajama pants. “This was a weird moment. I don’t know if we’ll have time to…”

  He pressed a finger against her lips. “If we never make it to a bed, then I’ll take this memory with me.”

  Addy closed her eyes, accepting this might be the only memory she’d have to play over and over in her mind. “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Addy looked up. “I owe you tea, Mr. Finlay.”

  A flash of teeth in the light of the moon. “I’ll look forward to receiving that payment, Miss Toussant.”

  She figured he wasn’t talking about the same kind of tea she was.

  Lucas walked out, moccasins sloughing against the tile and cold night air blasting in as he closed the door, leaving Addy to wonder if the moment had actually occurred… leaving her to wonder about his statement about making it to a bed.

  She had no answer.

  So she dumped out his cold tea and trudged back up the stairs to her empty bed.

  Lucas eyed the bathroom door before refocusing on the magazine sitting in his lap. Modern Parenting sucked as bathroom reading material, but he’d forgotten to grab one of his photography magazines before locking himself in. He wasn’t actually using the bathroom so much as escaping from Charlotte and her bevy of tea-swilling dolls.

  Jeez, you play dolls with a kid once and you’re tied up for hours. Charlotte’s preschool had parent-teacher meetings every afternoon for the rest of the week which meant no after-care Tuesday through Friday, which meant no free afternoons for Lucas. He’d spent the last few hours making burnt grilled cheese, playing “house,” and begging Charlotte to take a nap.

  As a last resort, he’d locked himself inside the master bathroom for a moment of peace.

  The door rattled and he glanced at it again. Sure enough four little fingers wiggled into the space between the bottom of the door and the door jamb.

  “Uncle Wucas, you have to come out,” she said in a muffled singsong voice.

  “Uncle Lucas is going potty,” he said, shaking his head at using those words. Who had he turned into? Potty? Dear Lord, he was a changed man.

  In more than just his language.

  What he’d experienced the night before in the neighbor’s kitchen had cemented what he already knew—he had a bad case of the hots for Addy Toussant. And it wasn’t merely about how incredible she felt in his arms. It teetered on something bigger. Something that scared the hell out of a solitary man such as he. He was a man who had planned to live out his life in blessed bachelorhood.

  Not that he didn’t like company of the female variety at times. He did. But the way he gravitated toward Addy had him worried. Like maybe he should dig in his heels a little and slow down. After all, he was going home in a few days’ time. Maybe being around kids and a cluttered house had him reaching for something pleasurable, maybe it had him convinced he felt something he didn’t.

  “Uncle Wucas?”

  “Charlotte, go feed Baby Carrie a bottle and put on a new pot of tea. I’ll be out in a minute.” He glanced at his watch. And then glanced at it again. Was it already 3:00?

  Oh, crap.

  “A wady’s here.”

  Lucas scrambled off the closed lid of the toilet, dropping the magazine—dogeared on the page with advice on to deal with troubled teenagers. “Who? Go find your shoes. We’re late to pick up your brothers.”

  He slid the chain from the door and opened it slowly because Charlotte’s fingers were still beneath it. He glanced down to find her lying on her stomach wearing a tutu. When she tilted her face to his, bright red lipstick smeared it. Then he saw the lipstick streaking the beige carpet.

  “Holy sh-” he breathed, catching himself at the last minute. “Uh, where did you get that lipstick?”

  “It’s Mommy’s. I weared it for the tea party, but it dropped on the rug. I cweaned it,” the child said, hopping up, waving a hand towel smeared with more red makeup.

  “Christ, Charlotte. Give me that,” he said, grabbing the guest towel and swiping at her face. She ducked and bobbed. “Okay, later. Give me your hand. We’re late.”

  The little girl’s lip wobbled, but she did as bid. Lucas had no idea how to clean up red lipstick. Maybe he better call a carpet cleaner and make an appointment. But first he had to pick up Michael and Chris.

  Dear Lord, please let me be able to fasten the car seat in minimal time. And let there be no traffic. And all stop lights on green.

  “What about the wady?” Charlotte asked.

  “What wady? Is she one of the ones who came to our tea party?”

  “Nooo.”

  “No? She’s a real lady?”

  “Yesss.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Down there.” Charlotte pointed toward the foyer below them. He reached the stairway and peered down into the first floor but saw no one. Maybe the child was confused between imaginary and real… and maybe he shouldn’t have spent the past fifteen minutes locked in the bathroom.

  Red lipstick on the carpet equaled lesson learned.

  When Lucas reached the landing, no lady stood in the foyer. And his keys weren’t on the table. He patted his pockets and looked back at the staircase. Had he left them upstairs? He was a man of habit. Keys by the front door. Always.

  “I don’t have time for games, Charlotte. I have to find my keys so we can go get Chris and Michael. Did you put them somewhere?”

  “Hey, you the uncle?” a voice over his shoulder asked.

  He spun to find a woman standing between the dining room and kitchen. She wore a tight sweater that came to her knees, some legging or tight things and high heeled boots. Her hair resembled something in the skunk family and her skin was the color of crunchy toast. Earrings brushed her shoulders and the skinny dude behind her looked l
ike the caricature in the old Atlas Gym commercials… the “before” shot.

  “Yeah, I’m the uncle. Who the hell are you?”

  “That’s cussin,’” Charlotte observed as wryly as only a near four-year-old could.

  Lucas ignored Charlotte and concentrated on the couple standing next to the table stacked with textbooks and a basket of crayons. He’d meant to clean if off, but such messiness didn’t seem important at the moment.

  “I’m DeeAnn. Courtney’s cousin. This is Joe, my boyfriend.”

  “Fiancée,” the guy said.

  “Yeah, fiancée,” she said, giving the man a look that made Lucas uncomfortable. “I almost forgot, baby.”

  Joe pinched DeeAnn on the ass, earning a little shriek, and then he grinned good-naturedly at Lucas. “Women.”

  Normally Lucas might have agreed with Joe. “You don’t know how to use the doorbell?”

  “We knocked,” DeeAnn said, with a shrug. “Little… What’s her name again?”

  “Charlotte,” Lucas said.

  “Oh, yeah, Charlotte. She let us in.”

  “You’re two days early.”

  DeeAnn broke away from Joe, turning to him with a smile. “Courtney sounded desperate so I took the rest of the week off and got over here on the double.”

  Lucas didn’t like the looks of DeeAnn… much less Joe, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. They didn’t look depraved. Maybe challenged in the fashion department, but not dangerous. “So Courtney’s paying you by the day?”

  “Look, I’m not doing this for the money, but I gotta have something to offset the fact I’m taking vacation from the tanning salon where I work.”

  He couldn’t necessarily fault her that. He could work from here. A tanning salon? Not so much.

  “Where are we sleeping?” She jerked her head toward the bags sitting in the doorway. Lucas had missed them earlier but that was because they sat behind a laundry basket full of towels.

  Joe picked up the two bags and cocked an eyebrow.

  “We?” Lucas crossed his arms. “Don’t you mean you?”

  “Dude, I’m not leavin’ her here with the kids by herself. Where she goes, I go,” Joe said, winking at DeeAnn.