Wedding Favors

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “Watch out for that pretty obsession of yours, boss,” Piron admonished with a wink.

  It was really irritating how everyone on the planet had suddenly become a goddamn mind reader.

  “I have no plans to see her again,” he returned.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Piron said with a wry glint in his eyes. “You moon after dis one for years like some ol’ love-starved hound dog, an’ when you finally find her, you kick her to the curb jus’ like all dem other women you fuck an’ leave. Whatsa matter, Shay? She don’ like your cock or somethin’?”

  “I did not—You know what?” Shay said, cold water dashed on his prior good mood. “You’re fired! Collect your pay and get the hell out of my maison.”

  Piron just guffawed and strolled off, back to the kitchen. Le connard. “You have fun at dat weddin’, hear?” he called over his shoulder, not in the least concerned, since Shay fired his arrogant right-hand man at least once a month.

  “She liked my cock just fine!” Shay shot back, to the amusement of the rest of the kitchen staff. At least she sure seemed to. Right up until those last few minutes, after the curse had been reversed.

  Not that he fucking believed in curses, he reminded himself firmly.

  Bordel de merde.

  He slung his tux jacket over his shoulder and stalked to the garage for his car. He should probably take a taxi, but on an impulse he decided to head out to the plantation after the reception. Spend a couple of days up there, thinking about his life and the future.

  Being with Tessa last night, a woman he could actually picture a life with, and having his luck turn so abruptly this morning had triggered something inside him. A certain knowledge that things could not go on the way they’d been going for much of his life.

  Something had to change. He’d known it for years, but suddenly it felt more urgent. As though if he didn’t put his life in order right now, the chance would vanish, and he’d be condemned to live this way forever, as his father and his grandfather had before him. There was nothing wrong with being the owner of the most exclusive private sex club in New Orleans. But he no longer wanted it to define him as a man, as it had until now. He’d worked hard at getting the establishment to the point of the quasi respectability the club enjoyed now.

  Tout quoi vous voulez, the Jaillissement’s inscription promised. Anything he could ever desire. Endless pleasure. But Shay already had all that. You couldn’t be the rich, good-looking owner of a club like Chez Duchesne and not have an embarrassing wealth of sensual pleasures thrown at you every night of the week. Could that really be all there was to his life?

  Impossible.

  He wanted more. He was ready for a new challenge. Something different.

  Had that been what that totally out-of-character ritual fuck this morning at the foot of that accursed fountain was all about? A cry in the darkness to a magic he didn’t believe in, a desperate attempt to bring about the change he so wanted but had no idea how to accomplish?

  Non, he thought as he drove to the church and the wedding that symbolized all he longed for. Wishes and voodoo would not fulfill his greatest desire.

  What he really wanted was to find someone special to share his life. To love and cherish and grow old with. That would change everything, make all his efforts with the club worthwhile ... because he could leave it in Piron’s capable hands and turn to more important, fulfilling things. Like raising a family of his own.

  At which point, his thoughts returned to Tessa. Lovely, seductive Tessa.

  Sa belle obsession ...

  Was she the one he was seeking? Why had he let her go? He should have kept her! Taken her upstairs to his suite and hand-cuffed her to his bed so she couldn’t leave.

  Hell, at least invited her to the damn wedding.

  Anything but let her walk out of his life again. What kind of an idiot was he to let her slip through his fingers? For the second time. The first woman in years who had stirred his body and fired his imagination. The perfect combination of beauty and intelligence, strength and submissiveness.

  He wanted her back.

  Foutre de merde, he wanted her back!

  He got to the church, a small but stately stone affair on the edge of the Garden District, parked, and hunted down the back dressing room that had been reserved for the groomsmen.

  After a round of backslapping greetings, Shay produced the generous flask of bourbon he’d tucked into his tux pocket and poured a round in four conical paper cups from the water cooler.

  “To the future Mrs. Gardet,” the four best friends toasted.

  “Speaking of whom ... You two have fun at the maison last night?” Shay asked Etienne with a grin. He and his adventurous fiancée were regular guests at Chez Duchesne, enjoying the openly sexual atmosphere and sophisticated fantasy play on offer there. Although Shay hadn’t seen them, he knew they’d planned to spend their last night as singles indulging in decadent behavior at the maison.

  “Oh, yeah,” his friend answered with an even bigger grin. “As always. But what’s this I hear about you and a certain lady in blue?”

  “Tessa,” he said, and threw back a second shot, filled with regret. “Do not even go there, mon ami.”

  Etienne’s expression went sly. “What’s this? Has the mighty Treves Duchesne fallen at last? Stay tuned, my good friends. This afternoon should prove interesting!”

  What he meant by that, Shay had no idea.

  The others oohed and made a few bawdy comments, but before Shay could correct their mistaken assumption that she would be with him, the organ music swelled inside the church. That was their cue. Taking a deep breath, Shay stowed the sizable spike of annoyance at the reminder of his lost opportunity and filed into the nave with the other men, lining up below the chancel alongside the groom.

  He really was happy for Etienne. It was obvious the man was head over heels. And Shay was determined to have a good time at this wedding with his friends and forget about the woman he’d let get away.

  Hell, there were plenty of other women here. Pretty women.

  Just look at the gorgeous bridesmaid gliding down the center aisle looking demure and virginal. Okay, so she was blond, and he wasn’t really into blondes today. No matter. There was a brunette stepping out after her, and she was just as pretty. Though he wasn’t particularly feeling the brunette either. What he really wanted was a tall, shapely, auburn-haired beauty with soft eyes and a sharp, very clever tongue.

  Kind of like the one following the brunette down the aisle.

  Shay did a double take at the last bridesmaid, and his jaw dropped in surprise. Their eyes collided, and hers went wide as saucers.

  Slowly he began to smile.

  Mais, yeah.

  Exactly like her.

  Chapter 9

  Tessa almost tripped over her feet and landed on her face in the middle of the aisle. She caught herself just in time.

  Oh. My. God.

  She could not believe what she was seeing.

  That man standing calmly at the front of the church, smiling like a fallen angel, one of Etienne’s groomsmen, it was him! Shay!

  Shay of the huge cock, commanding whisper, and dark bedroom eyes. The man she’d spent the entire night—

  God, she didn’t even want to think about what she’d spent the entire night doing with him!

  What the hell was he doing here?

  She bared her teeth at him behind a plastered-on smile, barely resisting hurling her bouquet at the devil. This was injury to insult. He must have known all along who she was. Laura frequented the maison often, she’d said, and Shay had obviously known his way around the place, too. And just as obviously was great friends with the groom. Had her friend set her up? God, surely she hadn’t hired Shay to entertain her? If so, she’d kill Laura. And Shay.

  The nerve of the man! Seducing her, doing all those ... things ... to her, then offering to pay her for her services, knowing all along she’d have to face him today. And be his partner in the
ceremony. Lord. That’s what Tessa got for missing the rehearsal due to a delayed flight.

  Jesus help her.

  She refused to look at him again, the cad. But she could feel his gaze on her the whole time. Hot. Tempting. Powerful.

  When the ceremony was over, she was forced to walk back down the aisle on his arm. And smile like her insides weren’t careening around in somersaults and her panties weren’t getting wetter by the second.

  She was mortified by her body’s reaction to him. Like she was expecting him to throw her down on the vestibule floor and take her in front of God and everyone. As he’d done this morning. And last night. She was getting turned on just thinking about it.

  Oh, God. She was so going to hell.

  “Let me go,” she gritted out under her breath, trying to jerk her arm free. But he’d put his hand over her wrist and was holding on like a dog with a bone.

  “No way.” He smiled. “We’ve got photos. And the receiving line.”

  “If you think I’m going to—”

  Without loosening his grip, he slung his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her. And not an innocent groomsman to bridesmaid thank-you kiss, either. It was deep and hot and involved his tongue, and it took her totally by surprise.

  “There,” he said when he let up. “That should put a stop to the designs every other man here is having on you.”

  “How dare you!” she began.

  “Another? My pleasure.” He kissed her again, this time pulling her body up against his.

  It was all she could do not to surrender to it and climb the man like a favorite tree to get to the sweet, sweet fruit. Mercy. The man kissed like a freaking god. Okay. He did everything like a god. That was the whole problem. When he touched her, her brain simply ceased to function.

  He raised his head and smiled down at her, putting his thumb to her lip as though he were fixing a spot on her lipstick. An intimate gesture that did not fail to have everyone in the entire vestibule staring at them. The women, all with envy. The men? Who knew? She could only see one man in the whole freaking place. The one preventing her from sliding to the floor because her knees had suddenly stopped working.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she quietly demanded, trying to pull away subtly, so as not to attract any more attention. And not end up on her butt.

  “Just claiming what’s mine,” he said matter-of-factly and walked her toward the place where the wedding party was gathering for photos.

  “I am not yours.”

  “That’s not what you said last night,” he reminded her, the beast. “I believe your exact words were—”

  “Stop it,” she hissed. “You made it very clear this morning what our relationship was based on. So just stop pretending—”

  He halted and looked down at her. “Is that what the frost was all about? Because I said I’d pay you? That was our agreement, cher. And I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

  “I told you I didn’t want your damned money. And another thing—” But she wasn’t able to ask about Laura’s role in their encounter because the photographer beckoned them, and fifteen minutes of staged photos ensued.

  To her irritation, he insisted on muscling his arm around her in every single picture.

  Okay, maybe she wasn’t irritated as much as ... All right, fine. She liked it. To be honest, regardless of how they’d met, it thrilled her to have a man as ridiculously attractive as Shay keep his arm firmly around her, willing to show the world that he wanted her so much that he’d go down through posterity in Laura and Etienne’s wedding album coupled with her.

  Not even Laura’s worried glances and concerned whispered, “What have you gotten yourself into, girl? We need to talk,” could make her come to her senses—though it seemed to answer the question of her friend’s involvement.

  Still, there was no way she’d let him know his actions were making her cream her panties. She knew a player when she saw one. Hello, they’d met in a bordello! Oh, excuse me, a maison.

  Thank God he’d made that unthinking remark about money this morning and reminded her that their relationship—and she used the term very loosely—had zero future. And there was her problem with men in a nutshell. She was far too quick to involve her heart, when almost always the man’s only interest was in a short-term good time. She wanted more than that. She wanted a dress and a ring and a happily ever after, the whole nine yards. She wanted a man to sweep her off her feet and take command of her in bed and treat her like a lady out of it. Yeah, she wanted a man to look at her the way Etienne was now gazing at his new bride. But all she ever found were men who were only interested in having fun. Their fun.

  When would she ever learn?

  She’d tried last night. Really, she’d had every intention of using Shay as he was obviously using her. As a temporary sex object and nothing more.

  But then he’d been so ... compelling. Gently leading her to do things she’d never in a million years believe she’d do. Subtly urging her, little by little, to submit and surrender to his powerful will. And she had. Willingly. Eagerly. No wonder she’d begun to surrender her heart to him, as well. The man had a voodoo all his own.

  The one time she’d met a man who knew how to take command of her and sweep her off her feet in every possible way, he’d turned out like all the rest. Damn.

  “Shall we dance, cher?” he murmured in her ear.

  Though, to be fair, he was thrillingly persistent.

  He’d driven her the few blocks to the reception in his—get this—Lamborghini, and she hadn’t trusted herself to say a word to him. They were now standing silently at the side of the dance floor watching the bridal couple take one last spin before inviting the rest of the crowd to join them. Shay was directly behind her, his body pressed intimately into hers, his arms looped casually around her middle. She was about to disintegrate from confusion.

  “What do you want from me, Shay?” she asked. “I’m not going to sell myself to you today—or ever—if that’s what you’re after.”

  “Hell, no. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  She ground her teeth.

  “What I meant was,” he backpedaled, apparently feeling her back stiffen, “I won’t make the mistake of trying to buy your favors.”

  Good save. But ... “Nice try. Except you distanced yourself from me even before the money was mentioned.” It had been her first clue to his perspective on their affair.

  His arms tightened slightly around her. “Yeah. And I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.” He glanced at the dance floor. “Vien.”

  He led her out among the dancers, and she didn’t have the strength to protest. Naturally, it was a slow number. She went reluctantly into his arms, doing her best to ignore how incredibly right it felt to be there. She really had it bad.

  “I’ll admit,” he continued as they began to move, “I was pretty freaked out by the whole fountain incident. Not sure what happened there. I kinda lost it for a few minutes.”

  In spite of herself, she gave him a faint smile. “You think?” To be honest, he hadn’t been the only one.

  “I don’t believe in voodoo. I honestly don’t,” he assured her.

  “Then what was that virgin sacrifice all about?” she asked dryly.

  He pulled back and grinned. “Hardly a virgin by that time, cher.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  He led her in a twirl. “Anyway. As I said, I sort of lost track of myself. Definitely not something that’s in my normal repertoire. But whatever that sacrifice was all about, it seems to have worked.”

  “Oh?” A tingle of foreboding spilled through her.

  “This morning I received some good news about a project my family has been trying to get off the ground for fifteen years. A courtyard restaurant next door to the maison. Fifteen years of rejections and stalling by the Historical Society, and suddenly, just hours after we made our wish, or broke that damn curse, or whatever the hell we did, I get the green ligh
t. A weird coincidence, non?”

  Oh, dear. Was there such a thing as a coincidence?

  She felt her ears going warm as her own wish echoed through her mind. Please, let the pleasure go on forever!

  She was so screwed.

  She choked on her bad choice of inner laments.

  “What?” he asked at her pained expression.

  “Yes, I agree,” she recovered. “Very strange. But that has nothing to do with you and me. I’m still not interested in repeating last night.”

  He captured her eyes as he pulled her closer. “Liar,” he said, then bent to nuzzle his nose against her neck. “I can smell it on your skin—your desire for me.” He traced a path upward, to her ear, and whispered, “If I slid my hand into your panties, they’d be drenched, wouldn’t they?”

  She didn’t dare deny it. He’d probably just insist on proving he was right.

  Thank God the song ended, and she almost flew backward out of his arms. She backed straight into Laura, who cheerfully looped her arm through hers and said to Shay, “Is it okay if I borrow my bridesmaid for a moment, sugar?” She winked at him with a grin. “Bouquet strategy.”

  He sketched a graceful bow, though Tessa didn’t miss the flash of impatience in his eyes. “By all means.”

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Laura drew her close and hurried her toward the powder room. “Omigod, girl, what are you doing with that man? Do you have any idea the kind of things Treves Duchesne is into?”

  “Wait. Who?” Tessa asked, momentarily distracted from confirming that Laura hadn’t set her up.

  Her friend glanced at her incredulously. “Shay! Please, don’t say you don’t know who he is? He didn’t tell you?”

  “He’s ...” Tessa faltered, growing alarmed at Laura’s obvious agitation. “Well, no, actually. We never exchanged last names. Who is he?”

  Her friend shoved her into the powder room and plunked closed the toilet lid, pushed her down on it, and locked the door with a rustle of silk and a pouf of petticoats. “Oh. My. God. Tessa! That’s Treves Duchesne!” When she didn’t react, Laura explained, “As in Chez Duchesne. The owner of the maison!”