by Dani Wade
“I don’t understand why a guy like you is here with me. You’re champagne and caviar. I’m—” she waved her hand “—just not.”
“Maybe we need to explore that difference. No obligations.”
This was it. This was the key he’d been looking for. So why wasn’t he elated? Instead, anticipation and fear sizzled in his veins. “So what do you say?”
“I still don’t understand.”
He didn’t want her to. The truth would be devastating—maybe to both of them.
“But yes,” she conceded.
He lifted his glass in a toast, and was relieved when she nodded her consent. The burn centered him once more. He set his glass on the table, rimming the edge with his index finger. He needed this conversation back on a smoother track. “So I guess a hot-air balloon ride is out, right?”
Madison laughed, pressing the palm of her hand against her stomach. “Let’s not risk it.” She studied him for a moment. “So you haven’t seen much of New Orleans? Not even as a kid?”
“No.” The pressure of her gaze urged him to elaborate, but for once he kept quiet. His childhood was something he never wanted to relive, even in memories.
“Well, how about I show you my version?”
* * *
“Are you sure you want to walk?” Blake asked as he met her on a corner of the outer edge of the Garden District a few nights later. “I’m happy to drive.”
“Don’t be a baby. It’s barely even summer here,” Madison teased.
Besides, the June heat was starting to dissipate as evening fell on the Garden District. The only way to get a good feel for this town was to walk it.
“You can’t experience the essence of New Orleans in a vehicle,” she said, “unless it’s a streetcar.”
“Those are just tourist traps,” Blake scoffed, but he fell into step beside her.
“Those are history,” Madison corrected. “And a lot of people use them besides tourists.”
“God forbid.”
Madison paused to study him, one brow lifted. Blake either hadn’t been exposed to the history of New Orleans, as he’d admitted, or he made a habit of not looking at a place too closely. “Just for that, I’m going to make you ride one. A lot of people commute on those things.”
“I’m not sure I’d fit in with my designer shoes.” He struck a pose, a grin forming on his too-perfect face. His words and actions were a reminder to keep things casual. A reminder she definitely needed.
How was she supposed to manage that?
“Pretty spiffy,” she agreed, keeping her tone light, “but you’ll be fine. I’m starting to get the feeling you didn’t really see all these countries you claim to have visited. Not really.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not.” But the line that appeared between his brows told her he didn’t feel as casual as he let on.
She didn’t want to ask what he’d really been doing in them. All those pictures of him with supermodel types told her most of what she didn’t want to know. Instead, she resumed her stroll along the sidewalk. As they walked, the tall, stately houses gave way to smaller, crowded buildings that contained businesses.
As they paused on one corner, a bus stopped at the red light. Its door opened and the older man called from the driver’s seat, “Hey, Madison.”
“Hi, Frankie,” she hollered back. “How did your granddaughter’s soccer game go?”
“She scored the winning goal,” he answered with a toothy grin and a thumbs-up before heading on down the road.
Not too much farther along, ol’ Mr. Paddington rounded the corner, walking his golden retriever. Madison paused to say good evening and pat the dog’s head as she passed.
At Blake’s curious look, she said, “Mr. Paddington lost his wife recently to a stroke. I encouraged him to get the dog to give him something to do. He walks her every evening about this time.”
A couple more blocks down, an elderly woman in a floral housedress paused while sweeping her front porch to wave. “Evening, Madison,” she yelled.
Madison raised her hand in greeting but didn’t stop this time. Maybe this hadn’t been the best route. She hadn’t thought about how many interruptions they might run into.
They crossed another street to a corner, where a familiar gentleman sat on a stool in the shade. His lovely saxophone blended with the sounds of traffic and commerce around them, and had for more years than Madison could count. She dropped a couple of coins in the open case at his feet. “Night, Bartholomew.”
“Thanks, Miss Madison,” he said.
They strolled along in silence for a few minutes before Blake glanced over at her. “Is there anyone you don’t know around here?”
“I’ve been walking this area since I was a kid. So honestly, not many. We lost a lot of people during Katrina and afterward, but new ones have moved in and that’s been a blessing.”
The sights and scents around her drew her in, enveloping her in a cozy feeling that had nothing to do with the fading heat of the day. She nodded at a small bakery, then a hometown pizza restaurant across the street. “All these places have been here for years. My mama used to walk up here when she was busy taking care of my dad. One of the special adventures she would take me on when I was a little kid was to get a free cookie from that bakery. They gave one to every kid who came in the door, and sometimes they’d be nice and give me two. I’d always share with my mama. I think the owner knew that.
“After her death, it was my turn to take care of my daddy.” Madison pressed her lips together for a minute. Was she revealing too much?
“What was wrong with him?”
“Multiple sclerosis. At first he thought he was in a severe depression after losing his business in a bankruptcy, but he progressively got worse. You never knew what a day would bring with him. My mother died when I was sixteen. This was the extent of her world, and mine for a long time.” She didn’t mention that they’d rarely had money for her to go anywhere else. Abruptly Madison paused, realizing just how much she’d said.
She’d intended to introduce Blake to her New Orleans...not spill the details of her sad and meager childhood. The sounds of the cars on the road and music coming from the stores covered their silence for several steps while she tried to figure out how to keep this conversation from getting too deep.
“Speaking of houses, when are you going to invite me over?”
Apparently Blake didn’t have the same issues about boundaries. Or most likely, he had no idea what a touchy subject her home had become.
Having him over was the last thing Madison wanted to do. So much for a modern girl’s attitude... As much as she hated how shallow it sounded, Blake was loaded. Money was not something Madison had ever had. Only now was she able to truly make a living with her job at Maison de Jardin.
The house that had once been a showplace of the area now had overgrown hedges to block the sight of it from the road. The disrepair from years of having to make do with a shoestring budget was something that embarrassed her greatly. She’d done what she could to keep up with the major fixes, but the broken windows, peeling paint, warped flooring and the lack of a new roof were sore issues for her right now.
The very knowledge that she would soon need to sell off her family home made her heart ache, but she knew it was for the best. It was taking every bit of her current salary to get it up to snuff. There was no way she could maintain the house in the glory it deserved.
A lot of people bought houses in the Garden District specifically to renovate them, and she was hoping her house would be lucky enough to have the same fate. Soon, but not yet.
“Are you staying far from here?” she asked, hoping to distract him.
He went along with it for now. “I’m in an apartment in the business district, but my family lives on one of the old plantations.”
Madison smiled, taken back to
her vivid daydreams of open spaces and old barns as a child. “I bet that was a magical place to grow up.”
“It was a hell with no means of escape.” A brief glance showed her a fake grin on Blake’s face to go with his harsh tone. “But then childhood memories are often exaggerated in our minds, right?”
She wasn’t so sure. Memories of the hard years of her childhood had softened with age, but they never went away. She reminded herself that that wasn’t why they were here tonight; this was about fun, not digging deep. Luckily, the place she had planned for dinner was just ahead. That should steer the conversation in another direction.
They stepped through the door with its peeling paint and a jingle bell over it into a long, narrow galley kitchen.
“Madison!” An African American woman rushed from behind the counter to hug her. Bebe was old enough to be her grandmother but appeared timeless with her smooth, dark skin. “It’s so good to see you. And who’s your friend?”
“Bebe, this is Blake. And I told him he needed to have the best po’boy in the city of New Orleans for dinner.”
Blake gave the dim conditions of the room the side-eye but seemed to be won over by the woman’s smile.
Bebe’s grin was contagious, as always. She pulled off her apron to give Madison a hug. “Girl, you are skin and bones. You need a po’boy and then some.”
Madison just smiled. “All that mothering instinct coming to the fore.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bebe’s smile turned down at the edges. “And I’m happy to report Talia is doing better.”
Madison gave her friend a little extra squeeze before turning her loose.
Bebe glanced over at Blake. “Love this one like a daughter. She’s the same age as my own Talia, whose undergoing cancer treatments right now.” She patted Madison’s arm while Madison blinked back tears. “This girl can make me smile on the worst of days.”
Then Bebe went back behind the counter. As soon as she put her apron back on it was all business. “What can I make you?”
Madison’s throat had closed up so that speaking was impossible. Blake stepped up to the counter. “How about Maddie’s favorite...times two?”
Bebe beamed her approval and got to work. Soon she handed the food back over the counter, then leaned over to give Madison a kiss on her cheek. “You have a good evening, darling,” she said as they headed out the door with their heavy bag.
“This way,” Madison said.
A couple of stores down, a narrow alleyway opened to the right. She led him down the space barely wide enough for his shoulders. As they walked, she took a few more deep breaths to try to clear her emotions away. Seeing Bebe was always a mix of happy and sad, but that was how they got through the tough times. Madison just hadn’t thought about it before taking him in there. She’d just wanted to show him some of her favorite places.
Finally they reached the end of the alley to face a black wrought iron fence. Taking a few steps to the side, Madison reached for the latch to let them in. And this was her favorite place of all.
“What is this?” Blake asked as they stepped into a lush, overgrown garden.
The centerpiece was a beautiful cherry tree, surrounded by various ferns, hostas and an abundance of moss growing in the shade. Tucked into one corner was a small wrought iron table and chairs.
“This is one of my favorite places in the whole city,” she said. “The garden is actually part of the St. Andrew’s Catholic Church. My mother brought me here as a child, and we would eat our cookies while enjoying the cool and quiet.”
She noticed Blake cock his head to the side like he was listening for something. Sure enough, the buildings and lush foliage blocked out the sound of the busy street not too far away. Despite living in the city, Madison had a deep love of nature and enjoyed these green spaces. Being here gave her a sense of peace and calm that everyday life seemed to withhold. But wasn’t that the same for everybody?
Maybe not, but she’d take peace where she could get it. Even now her heart rate was slowing and those unwelcome tears were seeping away.
“The priests don’t mind because they knew we would never leave a mess. The church allowed my mother’s services here when she died.”
“This is beautiful,” he said simply.
“You should see the conservatory at Maison de Jardin. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
She started to unpack their dinner, needing a distraction from the minefield of memories. How come she couldn’t just have fun?
“How did you go to work there?” Blake asked as they settled in. “You’re very young to be the director of that large a charity.”
In years, maybe. She didn’t want to talk about the experience that had made her qualified for her job. “Trinity, the former director, has known me for a long time. Knows what I’m capable of. But she’s still very hands-on.”
She paused to take a bite of the sandwich, enjoying the resistance of the bread and the crunch of the fried crawfish. “What do you do?”
He immediately popped off, “According to my father, nothing.”
Whoa.
Blake jumped to his feet and paced in the small space. Madison held really still. Should she say something? This went way beyond their surface chatter tonight. Not that she’d stuck to her goal of keeping it light very well herself.
He was quiet for so long the back of her neck tightened. Was he looking for a way to blow the statement off? Then she realized she didn’t know enough about Blake to counteract his bitter statement in any way. Just as panic set in, he turned back toward her and leaned against the tree trunk behind him.
“Is he right?” she asked, blowing off all of her angst and going with her instincts.
“Partly.” He offered a half smile. “But less than he knows.”
A lightbulb went off. “Your drawings?”
“How did you—of course, you noticed. You see a lot, don’t you?”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Probably not.” He pushed away from the tree and crossed to her side. “Definitely not.”
Before Madison could blink, Blake had her in his arms, his lips barely meeting hers. But he didn’t rush. He waited for her to open, granting him permission to press forward. Then he sampled, testing and tasting her lips in smooth, slow strokes. Madison’s spine lit up. The spicy taste of him on her tongue left her ravenous for way more than food.
After long moments he pulled back, leaving her dazed and a little unsteady on her feet. She opened her eyes, blinking once or twice before focusing in on the golden, angular lines of his face. Only to see them softened by his smile as he said, “I’m not comfortable with you seeing things, but I think it’s more than worth it.”
Five
Blake dove back in for another taste, leaving Madison breathless and gasping. The feel of him intoxicated her. She had the resistance of a rag doll as he pulled her into his lap. More naturally than she would have imagined, she found herself straddling his thighs. Belly to belly. Face to face.
As his mouth traveled from her lips, over her jaw, to her neck, she struggled to pull air into her lungs. The excitement of his touch, the racing of her pulse, the need to press herself closer to him despite the heat in the air...how was this happening?
Something tickled the back of her mind, something she should remember, but nothing intruded on the sensations evoked by the man beneath her. She clutched at his shoulders, kneading the well-defined muscles, not sure whether she was trying to steady herself or imprint him with her touch. A fire rose inside her, forcing her to squirm, needing relief from the intense sensations pooling low in her belly.
Madison rocked forward. Blake gasped against her skin, his hands squeezing her arms. “Madison,” he groaned.
Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat. After one last hot, openmouthed kiss, he pulled back. “We have to stop. Right now.”
“Why?” she whispered. She should know the answer, but right now it was as far from her as possible.
“We have to,” he said. He rested his forehead against her collarbone, breathing heavy in the hush of the garden. “I had no idea how addictive you would be.”
Well, no one had ever called her that. She drew in a deep breath, searching for equilibrium. How had this gotten so out of hand?
“May I help you?” a voice asked from the shadows.
Madison started, realizing they weren’t alone. Instinctively she jerked back, and lost her balance because she was on Blake’s lap. With a cry, she fell, landing on her backside on one of the stone pavers surrounding the table. She ignored the pain. Instead she focused in on the source of the voice. “Father Stephen... I’m so sorry.”
The younger of the priests here—at forty-five—gave her a soft smile. “I see that.”
Blake reached out and helped Madison to her feet. “Honestly, Father,” he added. “I apologize for—”
He broke off and a flush of red tinged the skin right above his magnificent cheekbones. Madison would have giggled if she wasn’t aware that her entire face was on fire, too.
“Yes, well, maybe it’s time to finish your dinner? Yes, Madison?” the man asked.
Madison guessed it was a good thing he knew her, or else she’d probably have been arrested for...something. But that thought made her embarrassment burn even hotter. “Yes, sir. I’ll—we’ll do that.”
“See that you do,” he said. “And I’ll see you at mass Saturday night.”
Madison choked on her emotions as the man retreated around the corner to the back door of the church. She only dared to glance over at Blake when he chuckled. He shook his head as he said, “Well, that was embarrassing.”
“He hasn’t known you since you were a baby. Imagine how I feel.”
Blake held out her chair for her to sit back down at the table. “Oh, I don’t have to imagine.”