by Sandra Brown
Usually Keely reveled in the European ambience of Arnaud's. She liked the crisp, understated, elegant decor, the hushed, accented voices of the waiters. Even the dishes and cutlery wouldn't dare clatter loudly in this restaurant and destroy the atmosphere.
Tonight she was aware of nothing but the man sitting adjacent to her. Under the pretense of sharing a menu, they looked at each other. It was an opportunity for his shoulder to press hers, for his thumb to caress her index finger. When Charles asked for their choices, they were flustered and embarrassingly unprepared to tell him. Quickly they ordered the trout meunière, and, being relieved of that duty, happily went back to staring at each other. Charles took it upon himself to complete their order for them, guessing correctly that they wouldn't care what they ate.
"Dax and I spent most of the afternoon together," he said after the waiter left their predinner drinks on the table.
"Did you?" Nicole asked. "Did you buy some television time?"
Dax placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Charles has got a stupid client, I'm afraid. The more he tried to explain my options, the more confused I became. And it's so expensive, not even counting the – the production costs." His inflection rose on the last words, making them a question.
"Yes," Charles said. "Before we can run a commercial for you, you have to have a commercial." He smiled genially. "I'll happily recommend some production houses for you."
"I've been thinking, I should hire professionals to take care of all this for me. They could better coordinate all the media ads. What do you think?" Obviously Dax respected Charles's business acumen.
"I think you'd be greatly relieved of a lot of tedious responsibility so you could better concentrate on other things."
The waiter had brought a linen napkin-lined basket of French rolls. The hard golden crusts kept their white centers soft and doughy. Dax broke off a piece of one, buttered it liberally and handed it to Keely. The pillows of his fingertips touched hers at the moment their eyes held and locked. Only the barest movement of flesh on flesh electrified them. The magnetic field that surrounded them was only broken when an obsequious waiter served them crocks of onion soup.
The restaurant wasn't crowded on this weeknight, but nevertheless they were wary of curious eyes and made the supreme effort of appearing no more than dinner companions. Throughout the meal the conversation was light and amusing, peppered as it was with Nicole's naughty statements, which she said only to aggravate Charles and try to shake his stoicism.
"Would anyone care for dessert?" Charles, acting as host, offered.
"I'm too full right now," Nicole said.
"I'd like some coffee," Keely said and Dax concurred. When it came, he automatically added cream to hers and stirred it for her. The natural intimacy of the gesture wasn't wasted on Charles and Nicole, but the knowing look they slanted at each other went unnoticed by the other two diners.
In the foyer of the restaurant as they were shrugging into their coats, Nicole said, "I like to walk a while and then go for dessert. And you know what I like best? Beignets at Cafe du Monde."
"You want to walk all the way to Cafe du Monde?" Charles asked.
"Sure, Grandpa. Aren't you up to it?"
"I'd probably make it there, but I doubt if I could make it back. Besides, you don't have time. You have to go back to work, remember?"
"We can take a cab from there back to here. And there is a network movie on tonight that runs late, so the news will be late too."
Charles looked at Keely and Dax who were standing close together, not caring what the plans were, so long as they didn't have to leave each other right away.
"Dax? Keely? Are you game?"
"I don't have any plans," Dax said.
"Neither do I," Keely said.
It was settled. They were thrilled. They could have an evening together and as long as they were protected under the auspices of business, they could always justify being seen together.
"Let's go down Bourbon Street," Nicole said and Charles groaned. "Come on, you old fuddy-duddy," Nicole taunted.
"Nicole," he said patiently, "Bourbon Street is noisy, dirty, crowded, immoral, and decadent."
"I know. I adore decadence," she said, her blue eyes dancing. She grabbed Charles by the arm and virtually dragged him the half-block to the intersection of Bourbon and Bienville.
They mingled with the throng, which was nothing to what it would be in a few weeks during Mardi Gras. The sounds and smells of Bourbon Street, New Orleans, were uniquely its own. The spicy aroma of seafood gumbo mingled with those of beer and the musty dankness that was inherent to the French Quarter. Live jazz blared out into the streets from the many nightclubs and blended discordantly with Cotton Eyed Joe being played by a country-western band. Barkers in front of the topless bars swung open the doors teasingly while touting the physical attributes of the dancers within. One could usually catch a glimpse of bare skin illuminated by flashing colored lights.
On the front of one such entertainment hall was a sign that read: "World-Famous Sex Acts Performed." "I wonder what makes them world famous?" Charles asked pedantically.
"Well if you have to ask, it's for sure you've never seen them performed," Nicole quipped. He sighed tiredly and, placing an arm around her shoulders, steered her away as though she were a recalcitrant child.
They meandered farther down the legendary street until the neighborhood became less commercial and more serene. They turned onto St. Peter Street, which would eventually lead them to Jackson Square, and the cafe.
The street was deserted and dark. Walking by twos, Charles and Nicole led the way, going past closed shop fronts, art galleries, and grillwork gates that protected alleys leading into private inner courtyards.
Dax raised his arm from the middle of Keely's back and settled it along her shoulders, pulling her closer. "How have you been?"
"Fine. You?"
"Fine."
"You look tired. Have you been working?"
"Yeah. I've been in Washington for the past three weeks. The congressional calendar is full. We're trying to get in all our business before the closing of the session."
"Oh."
"I had dinner at the White House with the President and the First Lady."
"Truly?"
"Yes." He grinned boyishly. "Business, of course, but it was nice to be invited."
They walked in silence then Dax said, "I read what you said in the newspapers."
"I read what you said too."
"Don't believe everything you read."
She turned to look at him. "No?"
"No," he said, shaking his head.
"Like what for instance?"
"Like for instance that I think of you as an admirably courageous woman who is fighting for a great cause and that I have no romantic inclinations toward you."
Her heart was pounding in her temples. "I shouldn't believe that?"
"The first part, yes, the second part, no. If you only knew how romantically inclined toward you I was, you'd be afraid to walk down this dark street with me. You'd know why I haven't eaten or slept properly in the last month. You'd know why I count at least ten new gray hairs every morning. I hope it's true that they say that gray hair inspires confidence."
They had reached Jackson Square now. The gates around the park itself were locked for the night, but they walked in front of the Pontalba Building, ostensibly looking in the shop windows on the street level, but seeing nothing.
"Did you have a tough time with the reporters?"
"Not really," she answered. "For a few days, that's all."
"I'm sorry, Keely. I'm accustomed to it, but I know you're not. I wish you could have been spared that."
"I survived. Van Dorf was—"
"Van Dorf! He came to see you?"
"Yes. He was at my car one day when Joe deposited me at the Superdome."
"That jerk," Dax growled. "One of these days… He didn't hurt you, did he?"
She laughed softly and smoothed the lapel of his raincoat in a comforting gesture. "No. He only implied some rather nasty things."
"What kind of things?"
She averted her eyes away from the probing strength of his. "He only said … you know … asked me things about you."
"What did he ask?" he persisted.
Flushing, she tried to look away, but he wouldn't allow it. He captured her chin in his hand and forced her head back until she had to look at him. "What did he ask?"
She licked her lips. "He asked me if you were good in bed."
"He what!" His hands went to her shoulders and gripped hard. "He asked you that? So help me, Keely, if he prints one libelous word about you—"
"But he didn't and he won't. He may be ruthless, but he's not stupid. He knows he has nothing to write."
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth. I don't know."
He tried to contain the smile that suddenly threatened, but failed, and finally gave in to it. "Take a guess."
She leaned away from him and looked sharply into his mischievous eyes. "What?"
"Take a guess as to how I am in bed."
"No!"
"Come on. Be a sport. Take a guess. I'll give you a hint."
"I don't want a hint."
Ignoring her, he leaned down, settled his lips against her ear, and whispered, "I'm not world famous yet, but I'm working on it."
He lifted his head slowly, studying her reaction, while she puzzled through what he had said. Then remembering the earlier conversation between Charles and Nicole in front of the nightclub, she burst out laughing. He caught her behind the head and pressed her face into his shirtfront as she laughed. His fingers interlaced behind her head and his thumb slipped under her hair to massage behind her ears. Eventually her laughter subsided and she raised her head. She watched his mouth as he spoke.
"I want to kiss you so bad I hurt. But this is a bit too well lighted and public, don't you think?"
Dumbly she nodded. Reluctantly he released her and they went to join the other couple at the street corner who were waiting for the light to change. They crossed Decatur and went past the Washington Artillery Park to the Cafe du Monde. Over a hundred years old, the cafe was still one of the most popular spots in the city. Serving only beignets, the fried doughnuts covered with powdered sugar, and coffee, it never lacked for customers during its twenty-four serving hours each day.
They chose a table on the covered porch even though the evening was cool and misty this close to the river. The chairs were chrome and green vinyl, the tables gray Formica, but it was for the hot coffee and doughnuts that one came to Cafe du Monde. That and to watch the constant flow of traffic – pedestrian, horse drawn, and motor – that circumnavigated Jackson Square.
They ordered two helpings of doughnuts, three black coffees, and one cafe au lait for Keely. In a matter of minutes the hot fragrant sugar-coated doughnuts were served with steaming mugs of strong chicory coffee.
They fell onto the doughnuts ravenously. Each bite unsettled the fine sugar on the doughnuts until a soft white cloud seemed to drift over the table and cost them all valuable eating time while they laughed. Faces, hands, and clothes were also dusted with the confectioners' sugar, but it was a messy hazard they gladly suffered.
Keely and Nicole each got a plate of leftover sugar to blot up with moistened fingers. Nicole was licking hers clean, her motions deliberately provocative, when she said, "Let's go up on the levee." Her eyes half closed as she eyed Charles seductively.
"You have to go to work."
"I have time." Without waiting for permission or assent, she left her chair and went toward the tunnel that connected through to the boardwalk built along the levee, affectionately named the Moonwalk. Lampposts with appropriately dim lights had been strategically placed along the walk, shedding enough light to keep one from stepping off into the Mississippi River, but not too much to destroy the romantic atmosphere.
The others followed Nicole's lead, and by the time they came out of the tunnel, she had already selected a bench for her and Charles. By tacit agreement when he sat down beside her, Keely and Dax walked farther on. They became absorbed by the shadows and swallowed by the mist that was lightly falling as they claimed their own bench. Lights on either bank of the river made wavy reflections on the surface of the water. What wasn't so pretty in the daytime looked magical by night.
Dax curved an arm around her shoulders and pulled her under its protection. She lay her head against the hard bicep. Her eyes were closed. She could feel his breath on her face, drawing nearer. Gently he blew against her eyelids, her mouth. It opened slightly to take in the air he expelled. Then his lips touched hers.
Now, after having been denied so long, they extended the torture, heightened the anticipation, perpetuated the excitement. He kissed her with closed lips once, twice, a third time. The light brushings couldn't really qualify as kisses, but more as caresses of mouth against mouth.
Cupping her palms over the hair above his ears that she had longed to touch before, she closed her hands around his head. His tongue played temptingly along the line where her lips came together, flicking and stroking until her own came out to meet it. Her tongue became a wild thing, forever imprisoned but now freed to do what it would. It outlined his lips, delved into the dimple, tormented the corners of his mouth until it opened under her probing. She swept the honeyed cave, taking up his nectar and leaving hers. Her tongue slipped behind his teeth and glided over the roof of his mouth. With deep anguished moans they fell apart.
They stared at each other without speaking. Their eyes wandered freely, giddy with the privacy they'd been granted and taking liberties otherwise prohibited. Hair, eyes, ears, noses, mouths, were perused at leisure until they could bear it no longer and came together again with hungry passion.
Their mouths fused, dispelling the doubts that had clouded their minds. Did she mean all those frivolous things she had said about admiration and respect? Has he truly left a trail of brokenhearted mistresses? How much does she pine for her husband? Does he love Madeline? Does she miss me? Does he miss me?
At long last he released her lips only to bury his mouth in her mist-dampened hair. "God, Keely, these past weeks have been hell. I've thought of nothing but you."
"I've been miserable, confused. I thought maybe you meant everything you told those reporters."
"No. You know better. Open your coat, please. I want to… There… All of that was just words, something to say. I never meant any of it."
"I thought so, but you weren't here…" They kissed. "I wanted to call, but I thought up all sorts of nightmares about wiretaps and … don't bother with the buttons. I just want to feel your hands on me … yes … oh, sweet…" They kissed again. "…wiretaps and all, you know … you taste so good, Keely."
"Are you worried about things like that?" she asked on a soft groan as he captured her earlobe with his teeth.
"More for your sake than mine… This is so soft…"
"Dax…" She sighed. "What did we do to make such a stir? Yes, touch me…"
"You feel so right… So many people saw us dancing. I wasn't aware of the audience we were drawing. I wasn't aware of anything except holding you and wanting you… Oh, yes, sweetheart … there." He pressed his hand over hers, trapping it against his shirtfront.
"I want you, Keely. I want to make love to you, to be inside you. I want you so bad I taste you with every pore."
* * *
Chapter 11
«^»
Her fingers furrowed through his hair, holding his head tightly against her breasts. She groped for something to say. There were no words of comfort she could share with him, because she was as bereft as he. Did he know she ached for him as badly as he did for her?
Charles spared her having to offer any trite platitudes. She saw him strolling toward them, stopping at a discreet distance to stare out at the river. Keely nudged Dax, softly saying his name, and he sat erect, follo
wing the direction of her gaze. Charles cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me, but Nicole must get back to the studio. Of course, if you wish to stay—"
"No," Dax said gruffly, finding it necessary to clear his own throat. "We'll go too." He stood and offered his hand to Keely. She hastily buttoned her coat, picked up her belongings, and joined him to follow Charles's hollow footsteps down the boardwalk.
Nicole was languishing on the bench, looking smug and satisfied. Keely shot an inquiring look in Charles's direction, but his bland expression gave away nothing. Still waters ran deep, Keely thought with a smile.
They retraced their way back to the front of Jackson Square. "Since your cars are parked in the KDLX parking lot, I thought we'd all walk Nicole back to work and then I'll get a cab to my car from there," Charles explained with the thoroughness of a scoutmaster.
"That's fine," Dax said. He placed a firm arm around Keely's waist as they walked along the fog-shrouded sidewalks. "To hell with my image. It seems to get worse the harder I try to improve it." He set their pace, slowing in order that Nicole and Charles would be well enough ahead of them to give them privacy.
"What did Madeline think of the publicity linking your name to mine?" Keely asked.
"I don't know. I didn't ask."
"You don't care then about her opinion?" she asked shyly.
"Not where you're concerned. She's got a lot of money, she's nice to look at, and on occasion, she can be fun. But she's also got a vicious streak. She's possessive and grasping and ambitious and jealous."
"Have you and she…?" Keely couldn't bring herself to ask the question and sucked her chin against her chest, staring at the wet concrete under her shoes.
They had almost gone a block before he answered. "I don't think it would be fair to Madeline or any other woman for me to answer a question like that."
"I'm sorry, Dax. I had no right to ask that." She gnashed her teeth, wishing she hadn't even hinted at the question.
"You have every right, so don't apologize. I'm glad you asked. It means a lot to me that you care about such things. Most people don't these days." They had reached their destination and paused at the corner of the building. He closed his arms around her and spoke gently. "I promise you, Keely, that since I met you, I haven't been with anyone else."