G.G. burbled her plan. “Sounds like a Hurricane wasn’t enough to get him out of your head. What you need now is a Long Island Iced Tea.”
Sophia waved her hands in front of her. “No way. I’ve had enough. You know I can’t handle anything else after I’ve finished a Hurricane.”
Truth was, she rarely finished the tall, sweet concoction. A Hurricane was oh-so-deceptive. Bit her in the butt before she knew what hit her. She’d asked for a to-go cup. The last thing she needed was another souvenir glass to match the other ten in her cabinet-hogging set. Besides, Pat’s wasn’t her favorite place. Too many tourists.
G.G. pulled her into the nearest bar. Against Sophia’s better judgment, she deposited her bottom onto a barstool while G.G. ordered them a round of Long Island Iced Teas.
Sophia imitated G.G.’s previous action by circling her finger around G.G.’s nose. “I ain’t paying for that. I told you I didn’t want it.”
G.G. shrugged. “Suit yourself. The round is on me.” She pointed toward the back of the bar.
Treena rolled her eyes, obviously interpreting G.G.’s body language. “Girl’s room.”
Sophia nodded, glad to catch a breath from the other two women for a moment.
Someone sat in the chair next to her and nudged her elbow. When she focused on his face, she recoiled before she could stop her unguarded reaction. “Les, what are you doing here?”
She cringed. She’d never before called him by his first name even though he’d insisted on it often enough. He smiled as if he’d just won the first skirmish of a long war.
“This is my favorite bar.” He paused just long enough it made her stomach flip. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She shook her head, maybe a bit harder than necessary. “No, thanks. I have one coming.”
As if on cue, the bartender slid a glass in front of her. She smiled at Les over the rim as she took a sip.
Blue-streaked spikes poked out every direction from the ponytail elastic on the top of the bartender’s head. Her face blurred a bit when she asked her question. “What’ll you have?”
Les pointed at Sophia’s drink. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Minutes passed while Sophia nursed her drink and Les sipped his. He kept talking while she mumbled uh-huh and no kidding to his monologue every once in a while. She glanced over her shoulder. What was taking G.G. and Treena so long? G.G. was probably having a difficult time pulling her bandage dress back down over her big butt. Sophia suppressed a giggle at the mental image.
Les finished his drink and motioned toward the door. “This place is loud. Let’s go somewhere quiet so we can talk.”
She smiled and shook her head, grateful for her absent friends. “I’m here with friends.”
He glanced around the crowded bar. “I don’t see any friends.” He slipped his hand around her elbow. “Let’s go.”
He tugged on her arm, but she remained planted in her seat. The time had come to lay down some ground rules. “I’m sorry, Les. I’d like to keep our relationship business.” She burped and popped her hand over her mouth. How was she ever going to get the man to take her seriously? She tried again to express herself. “I don’t think getting personal is a good idea.”
A cloud shadowed his dark eyes. “Maybe this is business.”
She doubted it. The word maybe circled around in her Hurricane-soaked brain. Maybe was so risky. Such a red flag. Maybe was always trouble.
He pulled her off her stool and toward the door.
“Let go of my arm.” She whispered through clenched teeth, hoping not to draw attention to them.
She was drunk enough she wouldn’t be able to fight him off if he forced her to leave with him. Her heart pounded with fear. She glanced around the crowded bar. For a horrible moment, she believed no one was paying attention to her dilemma, but then the blue-haired bartender leaned across the bar. “Is this guy bothering you?”
She stared at the woman and widened her eyes. Girl code. Get me out of this.
From behind them, a voice boomed above the noise. “Les Wakefield?”
Les dropped her elbow, and her arm banged on the bar. She pulled back and slid further away from him, rubbing the spot where a bruise would no doubt form.
“Who wants to know?”
The cop flashed his badge. “Detective Moreau. I’m with the NOPD. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
“I’m a little busy right now.” Les acted as if he controlled the world and the cop’s request was a nuisance he had to endure.
The cop was having none of Les’s posturing. “Outside, please.”
The cop locked eyes with her. Could she non-verbally convince him to keep the guy busy until she grabbed G.G. and Treena and left?
Her stomach tumbled. The sweet Hurricane threatened to surge up from her gut. Had she just lost the most lucrative contract of her career? Was Les Wakefield powerful enough to black list her in the interior design community just as her business was taking off?
Her friends returned at just the right moment. She jumped on her chance to get away from the situation. “Les, it was good to see you. I’ll be talking to you later.”
G.G. bellowed her dissent. “But I wasn’t—”
Sophia hissed in her ear. “I have to leave. Now. I’ll tell you why later.”
G.G.’s eyes widened and she nodded.
Sophia cast one glance toward Les as she stepped down the two risers onto the sidewalk. His eyes caught hers, and her heart missed a beat. Les’s face had contorted with rage.
She was certain she’d just lost the job.
****
Sophia flopped onto her bed without pulling down the duvet. Her stomach had been trembling ever since her intense encounter with Les Wakefield. She grabbed the edge of the mattress until her world stopped spinning and pressed the cool rag to her forehead. Never had she been so glad to get home. It would be a long, long time before G.G. and Treena convinced her to go bar hopping in the Quarter again.
After a while, she scrolled through her recent calls list until she found Dylan’s cell number, a number that hadn’t been in her contacts for years. She wiped her scratchy eyes with the back of her sleeve and then tapped his number.
He answered after six or seven rings. “Sophia, it’s two in the morning. What do you want?”
“Listen up, grumpy.” To her dismay, her words slurred more than she intended.
“Are you drunk?”
“No.” She paused to collect her disjointed thoughts. “Well, maybe. I had a Hurricane.”
He laughed. “You need me to come get you?”
She shook her head—a serious mistake—and realized he couldn’t see her. “I need a favor.”
A long pause. “I thought you didn’t like me any more.”
She almost blurted that she still didn’t like him, but slapped her hand over her mouth before she could alienate him when she needed his help. She reorganized her muddy thoughts and lowered her hand. “I want you to always be with me when I meet with Les.”
A silence followed her request so long she thought he’d hung up on her.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing yet. But Dylan, he’s everywhere. I turn around and he’s there. Tonight he was parked across the street from where I live, and then he showed up at the bar. He tried to force me to leave with him. If it weren’t for G.G. and Treena—”
“If it weren’t for G.G. and Treena, you wouldn’t be drunk off your butt.”
She bit her lower lip before responding. He’d never liked her friends. “He scares me, Dylan.” She forced her stomach muscles to relax by breathing in deep. “It might not matter. I might have lost the job tonight, but still…I can’t be alone with him.”
“Do you have a contract? He can’t fire you without cause, and refusing his sexual advances in a bar isn’t sufficient grounds for terminating a contract. Still, I’d watch out for him. The more I learn about him, the shadier he looks.”
“You get
that feeling too?”
“I found out some things tonight. Let’s get together when you’ve sobered up, and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. I think you need to know.”
Was this his way of wiggling back into her life?
At that moment, she didn’t give a rip what he thought he was trying to do. She needed an ally in her dealings with Les Wakefield.
“Tomorrow?” She cringed. The enormous burp she emitted made her seem weak and pathetic.
“Yeah. Maybe after you’ve had a little time to get past your hangover.” The smile in his voice told her he wasn’t angry, just highly amused at her intoxicated begging.
She grumbled under her breath. “Jerkface wadcake. You know why this is getting to me. Nobody knows better than you do what I’ve been through and why his behavior would upset me.”
“Call me tomorrow when you’re feeling better.” His tone had softened.
Maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t act like a jerk after all. Maybe, just maybe she could rely on him for this one thing.
The call disconnected. She let her head drop onto her pillow, and the room spun for way too long. Sleep finally came after the bed had floated around the room a couple of hundred times.
Chapter Five
The shades diminished the glare of the sun, but the reflective lenses didn’t completely shield Sophia’s eyes from the stabbing light of mid-morning. Because of the previous day’s sudden shower, the earth emitted a fine vapor of steam causing a high level of humidity in the New Orleans metropolitan area…as usual.
Sophia released a sigh and glanced at her watch. Dylan was late. But that was no surprise.
Audrey had been late too, at least that’s what she’d told Dylan, and that was why Dylan had decided their fling was more than a one off. He’d broken his engagement to Sophia, telling her that he didn’t want to be tied down, that he needed to experience the world as a single guy.
She wasn’t sure which was worse: the lie or the reason for the lie.
Dylan had wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret awhile longer, but Audrey couldn’t wait to tell Sophia that she was having Dylan’s child. Even though Sophia had told Dylan she never wanted to see him again, the feeling their break up had left behind felt more like he’d abandoned her. As far as Sophia was concerned, when he had cheated with Audrey, he had already left Sophia. She had simply made their split official. Sophia had moved out, and he’d moved in with her ex-best friend the next week. Audrey never had the baby.
The wind off the river flipped Sophia’s hair around her face. She pushed the flyaways out of her eyes and concentrated on the street. The dining area inside the restaurant was full to overflowing. It always was on a Saturday. She’d had no choice but to take a table outside. Couldn’t he have chosen somewhere besides a bistro with outdoor patio seating?
This wasn’t a romantic adventure. If necessary, their agreement would turn into a business deal. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He smiled when he rounded the corner and their eyes met.
She groaned. He had that look, the I’m-on-a-date look. She glared at him as soon as he was close enough to get her non-verbal message. He had the nerve to lean over and kiss her on the cheek. She balled her fist and prepared to punch him.
“Un-uh. You wanted a favor, remember?” He grinned. “Play nice.”
“Jerk.”
She wiped his slobber off her face, and he guffawed as if he’d just heard the funniest joke.
The waitress appeared at his elbow, a woman who had been absent until his arrival. “My name is Sheila.” She grinned at Dylan. “I’ll be your waitress.” She made it sound as if she was going to be Dylan’s personal servant. “What are you drinking?”
He offered the poor woman the widest grin in his arsenal. Sophia had seen that particular call of the wild before. She could almost hear the woman purr with anticipation. What did she think Dylan was going to do? Stroke her fur?
Sophia answered before Dylan could place his order. “Coffee.” She hurled eye daggers at the waitress. “We are just here for coffee.” She turned to Dylan. “That’s all.”
She shot Dylan a death glare. Don’t you dare pick her up in front of me.
“We did the touristy thing last night. My girlfriend had a bit too much fun. I guess it’s just coffee for her, and I’ll have one of those omelets with the chorizo on it.”
Sophia growled.
The glow in the waitress’s eyes vanished. She nodded and turned on her heel.
Sophia leaned across the table. “I. Am. Not. Your. Girlfriend.” And I never will be again. Sadness engulfed her, but she hid it before it showed on her face.
Dylan grinned. “Of course not. But you wanted her to back off, didn’t you?”
What? Was he implying she was jealous of a stranger’s obvious come on?
Sophia hissed through her teeth. “This is a business meal. That’s all. Your personal life is your problem, but please engage in your extracurricular activities on your own time.”
He leaned back in his wrought iron chair. “So Les creeps you out, huh?”
Okay, so he was ready to change the subject. So was she. She shook off her anger, rolling her shoulders and shifting in her seat. “I shouldn’t have to deal with him for a while. When I do, can you please conveniently be in the meeting?”
“I can try my best to be there, but why don’t you just quit the job?”
So he was going to be difficult. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No. I’ve actually been looking forward to working with you.” Confusion covered his face as if that was a new thought for him and it bothered the snot out of him.
The man contradicted himself…a lot. She was trying hard to read him, but he was acting weird.
“If he makes you uncomfortable, I would think you’d want to keep your distance.”
It was more than suggesting that she avoid discomfort. Dylan had used his protective tone of voice.
“You told me you know something about him. You think he’s dangerous, don’t you?”
He wrinkled his brow. “I understand the job means a lot to you, but I’m worried that something isn’t right about the guy.”
The waitress chose that moment to drop Sophia’s coffee cup in front of her, sloshing hot liquid near her hand. She scowled at the woman.
“Your omelet will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else?” The waitress bit out her question as she slapped the check on the table.
Dylan reached for the check. “Nope. We’re good.”
As the woman walked away, Sophia giggled and then placed her hand over her mouth. Her eyes met Dylan’s. The moment felt like old times.
She shouldn’t encourage the man, but she couldn’t stop herself. She lowered her hand. “She’s pissed at you now. You shouldn’t have flirted with her if you weren’t going to follow through.”
Dylan grinned. “Not my type.”
No, Audrey was.
Fun and games were over.
Sophia forced her mind back to the conversation. “What have you heard about Les?”
“My friend Royce is the bank manager in Wakefield. His bank held the Wakefield Trust for nearly seventy-five years because no one stepped forward as a Wakefield heir. Then Les showed up only days before the bank would have taken possession of the trust assets, including the plantation. The paperwork is in order, but Royce has the feeling something isn’t right.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. His sudden appearance seems like convenient timing.”
Dylan took a sip of water. “That’s what Royce thought, so he asked me to snoop around the place and look for evidence one way or another that this guy is for real.”
“If Les figures out what you’re up to… I don’t know.”
Dylan scooted his chair closer to the table and planted his elbows on the top. “Do you remember Jordan Clark?”
Of course she did. She nodded.
“He came to see me last night. His sister was engaged to a guy n
amed Brandon Wakefield. He claimed he was from the town, but Jordan’s not so sure. Jordan is from St. Denis Parish, and he’d never heard of Brandon. He had a private investigator do a background check on the guy. Some of his past seemed sketchy, and the investigator never could find out for sure where his parents came from. Jordan’s sister never met them. When Jordan told her what the investigator had discovered, she blew up at him and refused to speak to him. He never heard from her again. She drove to Wakefield one day and disappeared the next. Brandon left town right after Jordan’s sister disappeared. Now, Les shows up and says he’s a Wakefield descendant.” His pause was significant. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
Chill bumps dotted her forearms. “Do you think it’s the same guy running some sort of con?”
“I don’t know, but I want to find out. And I would like your help.”
“Mine?”
“I think we could have a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Go on.”
“I could make sure you’re never alone with him, and you could help me do some research on the Wakefield family. As I recall, you were always good at doing research.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she only hesitated for a split second. “Okay, I’ll help.” If Les Wakefield wasn’t who he claimed he was, then he was going down.
She closed her eyes and dredged up a memory from her alcohol-soaked evening the previous night. “I met this cop last night…”
“Nick Moreau?”
She tilted her head. “Yeah. How did you know?”
Dylan’s face set into a concerned frown. “He came to see me last night about Les Wakefield.”
“He showed up at the bar… I can’t remember which one… and he demanded that Les go outside with him to answer some questions. Les wasn’t going to go, but the cop got pushy. Les didn’t like that a bit. I have a feeling that wasn’t a friendly conversation. Maybe we could tell Moreau about our concerns and ask him for help.”
“I can’t go to him.”
“Why not? Oh wait. Never mind. I understand.” No doubt, Moreau was the cop who had made Dylan’s life miserable after Audrey disappeared. With her head pounding, she was in no mood to discuss Audrey. “You said Les could be dangerous. If we need help, we’ll have to call him.”
The Unmistakable Scent of Gardenias (Haunted Hearts Series Book 6) Page 5