“So why do you keep doing that Grace? She’s nice enough, but she’s not my type.”
“And what exactly is your type, Elijah? You never bring any women around. You are nearly forty.”
“I’m thirty-two.” He corrected.
“And,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “the only person you see on a consistent basis is Riley. If I didn’t know you better, I would think that he and you were of the same persuasion.” He shook his head.
“Riley would never have me.” he joked, giving Boogie a teasing wink as he poured himself another glass of iced tea.
“Why don’t you ask him about the person he was boning this morning?” Boogie threw out casually as she put the dishes away. Again, Eli sputtered iced tea as he nearly choked.
“Really?” His grandmother’s eyes sparkled with interest. The doorbell rang, and Boogie, after causing as much trouble as she could, dashed out of sight to get the door. Eli went about cleaning up the spilled iced tea, his cheeks burning from embarrassment.
“I wasn’t fuc- having sex with anyone this morning, Grace. Boogie is just messing with you.”
As if on cue, Boogie and Riley entered the kitchen. Riley gave Grace a bear hug and loud smacking kiss on the cheek, before getting his own glass of tea and settling on a stool at the island in the center of the room. “Tell her, Boog. Tell Grace that you were just messing with her,” Eli coaxed.
“I was not messing with your grandmother. When you came in here, your eyes were of a man who had gotten him some. I know that look very well.” And she would know. Boogie had lain to rest five husbands by the time she was forty-five, four of whom expired after a vigorous night of love making. Or so she said. Eli tended to believe it was due in part to Boogie’s skill in the kitchen rather than the bedroom.
“Well, it wasn’t actual sex. But I bet if I hadn’t walked in when I had- it would have been,” Riley said before taking a sip of his drink with a sly smirk. He let it hang out there in the air, as they all focused on Eli. After what felt like an hour of silent stares, he cleared his throat and gave in. They weren’t going to breathe until he spoke up.
“It wasn’t sex. It was- something else. And anyway, we were working a case-” There was a collective exhale at that and he blushed.
“Whatever.” Boogie dismissed him, turning her attention to Riley.
“Who is she?” Grace asked, sitting on the edge of her seat, her hands clasped together under her chin like an excited teenager.
Riley mimicked her posture, his eyes dancing with conspiratorial glee. “Her name is Dr. C. Keegan Kent. We were talking to her about one of our cases, the Case of the Missing Rock Star.” He said it as if it were the title of a Nancy Drew mystery and Eli rolled his eyes. Grace gave his arm a pat and moved closer.
“You’re working that case?” Boogie squealed excitedly. “I heard about it on the news. Is he really dead?”
“Yeah, he’s dead. And according to Eli, who did his – thing,” he waggled his fingers at his temples and rolled his eyes back into his head. “He got out of the coffin and walked right out. So we needed to talk to his doctor, you know to see why he hadn’t been embalmed and the doc, who we thought was a he, turned out to be a she. And she is a freaking supermodel. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, ever. Tall, legs for years, long jet black hair, skin like silk, the color of caramel. She has an amazing body, eyes the exact same shade as Eli’s. She looks like she could be a movie star or a princess. And she is a brilliant doctor. When they met, it was like electricity. You could feel the air go out of the room. It was so strong, the attraction was obvious. Seeing them together- amazing. I mean—when I say gorgeous—she’s like a female version of Eli. They look like book ends, like someone carved them out of the same marble. Perfection. I swear I could hear angels singing.” Riley held the women enthralled as he spoke. They turned slowly to look at Eli who nervously cleared his throat and shook his head.
“It wasn’t that serious,” Eli began, only to be waved off by Riley, who wasn’t done just yet.
“He couldn’t even speak to her for a few minutes he was so in lust. That was the first time since I’ve known him that I can say a woman has left Eli Cain speechless. He was so discombobulated; he flipped his chair in her office. His shoe even landed in the fish tank.” The three of them looked at him with huge grins on their faces.
“You talk too much,” he mumbled to Riley unable to hide the blush that warmed his cheeks. And the three burst into giddy, girlish laughter.
“I’m leaving now.” Eli groaned and walked out of the room followed by a new gale of laughter.
***
Eli lay on his living room floor, listening to his iPod and absently clicking the switch for a lamp off and on as the light faded outside. It had been two days since he’d met the beautiful Dr. Kent, and for 48 hours she had been the only thing on his mind. She ranked higher than the missing body of the rock star that he was investigating. As he and Riley searched every lead for the body of Nicky Sky, whose sightings rivaled Elvis, TuPac and little green men, she was the only thing he could focus on. Her eyes, her smile, and the way she smelled. The way she could read his mind just as clearly as he could read hers. The way the room filled with electric energy when she entered it. He couldn’t stop thinking of the way she licked her lips and bit her lip when she was nervous. He wanted to know if her lips were as soft as they looked, her skin as silky as he imagined. He wanted to know what her body felt like against his.
He sighed and rolled onto his stomach to try to change his train of thought. He’d tried Googling her, but most of the information was the same information Riley had found. There were no pictures of her, and only a few brief mentions of her in articles in regard to the Kents. She was always referred to as Jonas’ youngest daughter, Dr. C.Keegan Kent. He wondered what the C in C. Keegan Kent stood for, something romantic like Charlotte, Chloe or Camille, or exotic like Chiara. Maybe it was Cynthia or Christina. She didn’t look like a Christy to him. Christian maybe. He frowned and shook his head, there were warning signs going off in his head big flashing neon lights that said DANGER. But he couldn’t help wanting to know more about the mysterious Dr. Kent. Like, why he’d been dreaming about her for the better part of ten years now. He hadn’t even let Riley know it had been that long. Ten long years and he’d finally seen her in the actual flesh.
He was bought back to the world by the persistent ringing of his telephone. Slowly he rose to his knees and answered.
“Ello,” he grumbled into the receiver.
“Hello Elijah. This is Hannah Freeman. We met at your grandmother’s a few days ago.” He nodded at the memory of the nervous, ultra-thin woman who wondered about his sexual prowess. Rolling his eyes, he sat on the sofa.
“Yes, of course. How are you Hannah?” He ran a hand over his forehead as if that would clear his mind. It didn’t. He glanced around the room and realized that while he lay on the floor daydreaming, it had gotten dark, casting a gloom over the dimly lit living room. He leaned over and flicked on a lamp and nearly jumped out of his skin as something moved near the front window. Standing, he slowly crept to the picture window that looked out onto the tree lined street and peeked past the curtains. There was nothing there, except an old grey cat that looked back at him before loping off through the hedge that separated his yard from his neighbor’s.
“Eli, did you hear me?” Hannah’s voice brought him back to the conversation. She’d called to invite him for a drink and since he had nothing better to do, other than sit in his living room thinking of the Doc, he agreed to meet her. She was persistent and he needed to get out of the house. Besides, what harm could it do? As he changed into jeans and a lightweight sweater, his mind once again floated toward images of Dr. Kent.
“Get a hold of yourself man,” he told his reflection in the mirror.
***
He slowly pulled his black Lexus LX SUV out of the carport onto the narrow cobblestone street. The one expensive gift he’d acce
pted from Grace was his new car. He could have bought it himself, but she insisted on gifting it to him the previous Christmas. Declining would have hurt her feelings. She had spent weeks agonizing over the car, and she was more excited than he was when she’d presented it. As he rolled through Algiers Point, his cell phone rang. “Hey Ri, what’s going on?”
“Just checking in. I did some follow up on some of those leads, in the Nicky Sky case, came up with nothing. What are you up to? Let me guess, obsessing over one raven-haired beauty? Again?” Eli snorted but didn’t bother to deny it.
“Actually, I’m meeting Hannah Freeman for a drink at Whiskey Blue, just to get out of the house. I need to burn off some energy.”
“You could always burn off energy with Hannah, just until you hook up with the Doc again. I mean you know you will. I know you will. Hell, even she knows you will-”
“Good bye Riley.” He hung up before Riley could continue down a road they had traveled many times over the past couple of days. Listening to Riley simply brought him back to her again. Candice. That would be something fitting or maybe Claudia.
“Crazy.” He mumbled to himself.
***
The Whiskey Blue was an upscale lounge located in the W Hotel on Poydras Street about two blocks from the Riverfront. It took Eli only a moment to find a parking spot, and with a feeling of dread tugging at him, he entered. The darkened bar was crowded with wannabe hipsters hanging at the bar and lounging on leather sofas, the modestly roped off VIP area was packed full of fedora wearing young men with long shaggy hair, and skinny jeans. The women were all in tiny dresses and high heels, their lips lacquered with pastel glosses. As he entered, a few of them looked his way, but he paid no attention. He was always oblivious to his appeal to others, but both men and women were drawn to him.
Hannah sat at the bar, in a short skirt and too high heels. She stood when she saw him approach, a giddy smile on her face. She was pretty, in a conventional debutante way. Her brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and lay over one shoulder, in an attempt to be sexy. The skirt was black. The top low cut to expose optimal cleavage, was a shade of emerald that seemed to match her sparkling earrings. There was something sexy about her, he supposed. She had caught the eyes of several men in the room he noticed, but she seemed to have her laser-like focus on him.
She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek that was sticky with gloss that smelled of fruit. It took all that was in him not to wipe like a bratty kid when she moved away. He sat with her at the bar and ordered a vodka gimlet, which he was sure he would nurse for the duration of the evening. She ordered some sort of pink frothy thing that was served in a martini glass with a slice of fruit on the rim. He didn’t drink much; he’d never had a very high tolerance for it. From what Grace had told him of the few occasions he’d had one to many, a drunken Eli was a completely uninhibited Eli. And that was not a good thing.
“So glad you could make it. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you,” she said. But he knew she really could care less if she were disturbing him. All she cared about was sitting across from him right now making suggestive statements and flirting outrageously.
“No.” He tried to give her a smile, but it felt tight and forced. She nodded and sipped her drink. She batted her false eyelashes and touched his thigh as she talked to him about her hobbies, which basically came down to shopping. She tried bringing up her favorite television shows, which all consisted of fluffy reality shows about bland socialites. Her taste in music ran towards the bubble gum pop variety and her taste in movies was strictly romantic comedies.
“I just love, love, loved the Twilight series,” she gushed.
“Did you read the books?” Eli asked, and she snorted.
“Who has time to read, especially when there are perfectly good movies available.” He suppressed his urge to roll his eyes. She spoke of her charity work, which sounded to Eli as more like an excuse to have lunch with her friends and have parties. There was a lot on the outside of Hannah to look at, perfect make-up, impeccably dressed; she knew what to say and what to do, but that was it. There was nothing underneath the pretty packaging. In his estimation, Hannah Freeman was about as deep and interesting as wading in a puddle. His mind wandered until she began coming on to him. She moved closer, speaking in a whisper so he would have to lean in to hear what she was saying. More than once she mentioned how tipsy she was, and touched her décolletage, drawing his eye to her cleavage. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, licked her lips, and moved her hand higher and higher up his thigh.
“I have a room upstairs,” she whispered into his ear, before nipping his earlobe with her teeth. Eli pulled away quickly, his eyes wide. Another reason he didn’t drink much, it dulled his senses and made his “special talent” nearly inoperable.
“Well, yeah, you should really go up and sleep it off. I have to go, early morning. This was nice; we’ll have to do it again.” He tossed some money on the bar and backed away, waving to her as he did. He backed out of the bar and onto the street before she could react. He knew it was a cowardly and rather douche-y way to handle things, but he needed to get away from her, he needed an escape.
***
Once the night air hit him, he felt refreshed, too wired to go home, and it was too late to go hang out at Riley’s. Standing on the corner, he looked towards the riverfront and the flashing lights of Harrah’s Casino. A steamboat whistle blew somewhere on the river and Eli decided a walk would do him fine.
As he strolled past the bustling casino and headed toward the river, his mind went back to Dr. Kent. He wondered what it was about her that drew him to her. Sure, she was gorgeous, but Grace had introduced him to any number of gorgeous women. He inhaled the fresh cool November air, and shook his head. Yes, they were gorgeous, but they were interchangeable insipid air heads that cared more about their shoes than the charities they all seemed to champion. Not Dr. Kent. She was beautiful, no doubt, but was surrounded by an air of intelligence and natural poise. There was also a slight mischievous glint in her eye, an amusement like she had a secret; and she could read his mind. That was a big point in her favor. She was like him. A lot like him, he gathered.
He’d just crossed the base of Canal Street, rounding a corner in front of the Aquarium of the Americas to walk along the riverfront, when a jogger came out of nowhere and plowed into him. He didn’t hit the ground, but his knees did buckle and he took a steadying step backward. He reached out, the wind knocked out of him, and steadied his assailant. She had her head down, ear buds in her ears and an iPod strapped to her bicep. She stepped back.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you when I came around the corner.” She looked up and smiled with recognition.
“Det. Cain?” She popped the buds from her ears, and moved further into the light. She had on pale blue velour shorts that sat high on her thighs, and a white tank top that clung to her taut frame. Her hair was pulled back in a thick braid; sweat stained her shirt under her armpits and ample breasts and trickled down her temples, making her hair curl in tendrils around her face.
“Dr. Kent?” He stared at her as if she were a dream. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, surprised by her sudden appearance.
“I don’t usually run at night but I got a late start tonight. Did I hurt you? I did come barreling around that corner pretty quickly,” she breathed, an excited smile on her full lips. She reached up and pulled the iPod off of her arm and wrapped the cord to the buds around it as quickly as possible.
It took him a moment to realize that she was really there. “No, no I’m fine. How about you?” He mumbled. “Aren’t you cold?” He couldn’t help notice that she was wearing next to nothing and white puffs appeared between her lips as she breathed.
“Umm, no. Adrenaline gets going, keeps me pretty warm.” She bounced from foot to foot, keeping her body temperature up. “What are you doing out here?” She repeated. They fell into an easy stroll along the river, her breathing slowing as they crossed the street t
o the bustling nightlife on North Peters Street.
“I had a date.” He mumbled and her brow went up in surprise.
“And done at-” She looked at her watch. “Nine fifteen. She must have been one hot number.” She whistled.
“She was about as hot as dead wood. Real turn on.”
She laughed and right then and there he decided that her laugh was his new favorite sound. She touched his arm as they strolled and he felt the electricity pulsing through her. She must have felt it too because she pulled away quickly, avoiding his eyes.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s a sweet girl, but just not my type.” He shoved his hands deep in his pockets to fight the urge to grab her hand. His mind wandered as he tried in vain to probe her thoughts. She was keeping him out again. He snuck a sideways glance at her, half expecting her to be looking away. Instead, he found her studying his profile. He turned to face her and she smiled.
“And apparently a lover of lip gloss.” She stopped and used her thumb to wipe the sticky smear of gloss off his cheek. Instinctively, he held her hand to his cheek, his eyes hooded by shadows. He didn’t say anything, but she knew what he was thinking. He took a step closer, closing the space between them; his warm alcohol-laced breath tickled her noise. He was going to kiss her; she knew it and her heart began to race. She chewed her bottom lip and he made a noise deep in his throat, and stepped even closer. His closeness made her stomach do somersaults and she could barely breathe. When he moved in, lowering his mouth to hers, she pulled away slightly.
“That would be a mistake wouldn’t it?” He said, his eyes closed, his mouth still deliciously close to hers. He gently touched his forehead to hers and exhaled. She could feel him bulging against his jeans, grazing her bare skin just above her waist band. She swallowed hard and slowly she pulled her hand away and averted her eyes, wrapping her arms around her suddenly cold body.
“I think it could be.” She shivered, but not from the cold; she wanted him to kiss her.
“You’re freezing.” He quickly stripped his rich brown suede jacket off and draped it around her shoulders, tugging it closed over her chest. She stared up at him; his mouth was so close to hers. She could smell the sweet musk of his cologne and wanted to lean closer, press her body to his, but that would be a mistake.
The First to Fall: A Fallen Novel (The Fallen Series) Page 5