Release Me

by Farrah Rochon

  Bigheaded, egotistical…

  “Jonathan Campbell.”

  Ivana raised her head and her heart stopped.

  Lord, Almighty, there he was. Her foe. Her arrogant, overconfident, bigheaded, egotistical foe. Her handsome-as-all-get-out foe.

  Ivana could tell he recognized her instantly. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin that sent a shot of something tingly straight to the pit of her stomach. He came around the table and captured Sienna’s hand, placing a perfect kiss upon the back of it, all the while still staring at her with those keen brown eyes.

  “How are you doing, Sienna?” he asked.

  “Wonderful,” Sienna answered. “Congratulations on last night.”

  “Thank you,” he answered, then he turned to Ivana, and the grin escalated to a full wattage smile. The rush of nervous energy she’d experienced when she first met him came over Ivana once again.

  “And here is the second of the infamous Culpepper girls, Ivana Coleman,” Toby introduced.

  She inwardly cringed at hearing her married name. “I went back to Culpepper,” Ivana corrected him.

  Jonathan walked around the back of her chair and Ivana’s heart rate multiplied. She needed a sip of water, but feared her hands would shake the liquid right out of the cup. Instead, Ivana put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands, thwarting any plans he may have had of repeating the greeting he used on Sienna. She did not want this man’s lips anywhere on her. Really, she didn’t, Ivana told herself.

  “Hello, Ivana.”

  Electric sparks raced down her back at the sound of his deep voice softly calling her name. He held out an extremely large palm the color of a rich caramel latte.

  Ivana tipped her head to the side but kept her hands planted firmly under her chin. “Welcome to New Orleans,” she said. She refused to lie and say she was happy to meet him because she most certainly was not.

  His eyes sparkled with knowing amusement and she was sorry she even deigned to look at him at all.

  “Thank you,” he answered and walked around to the seat next to Toby. He didn’t sit directly across from her, but with the small size of the Holmeses’ table, he very well could have been in her lap for all the distance between them. Margo’s cooking didn’t seem all that appetizing anymore. Ivana would have given just about anything to leave.

  “We didn’t get a chance to talk much last night,” Sienna said, placing her napkin in her lap and reaching for the spicy smelling dish. “How are you enjoying the city so far?”

  “It’s getting more and more interesting everyday,” Jonathan answered, still looking at Ivana. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

  “This isn’t your first time here, is it?”

  He finally turned his attention fully to Sienna. “I’ve been down a couple of times before, but not since Toby and I were in school.”

  “I was in Atlanta at the time,” Sienna said.

  He nodded, taking a sip from his plastic cup filled to the brim with iced tea. “Spelman. I remember Toby talking about how you passed on all those athletic scholarships and picked the academic one instead.”

  As they feasted on jambalaya, the conversation turned to both of Jonathan Campbell’s new endeavors. Ivana’s estimation of him dwindled with each syllable spoken. The man encompassed everything she loathed. Not only was he the attorney who was single-handedly ruining that beautiful house in the Quarter, he was also the proprietor of the monstrosity of a nightclub recently constructed on Esplanade Avenue. As if this city needed another place to provide liquor and loud music.

  “So, what do you do, Ivana?”

  Ivana jerked her head up, looking around the suddenly eerily quiet table. The question had come from Jonathan, who sat with that slip of a smile edging up the corner of his mouth.

  “Ivana is a…umm…priestess,” Toby provided.

  “A priestess?”

  “I’m a Voodoo Priestess,” she clarified, raising her chin so high in the air she nearly caught a nosebleed. She would not let this slick-skinned lawyer make her feel ashamed of what she was. She’d faced enough ridicule from her ex-husband, Michael, and her own mother. She certainly would not flinch under the censure of this man whom she barely knew.

  But there was no censure in his surprised gaze. His right brow quirked, he simply nodded. “Extremely interesting. I guess I should steer clear from you then. I wouldn’t want you to put a hex on me.”

  Ignorant fool. If she could cast hexes, she’d turn him into the jackass he was, complete with floppy ears and gigantic teeth.

  Ivana settled for sending him a stare that said quite clearly “don’t mess with me.” She would leave him to his ill informed ideas. He would have no interest in learning what the real Voodoo of New Orleans stood for anyway. And it wasn’t as if she had never heard remarks such as his before. Ivana had dealt with them from the moment she join the Cause. If she took the time out to actually explain the culture to everyone she met, she’d never get any work done.

  The original Voodoo did not operate the way history tended to portray: calling on evil spirits to wreak havoc on society. The real Voodoo was a benevolent society that took care of the sick by utilizing the power of spirituality that was found inside all human beings. She and her sister priestesses simply had a better way of harnessing that power.

  Unfortunately, people chose to believe lies and half-truths when it came to understanding her kind, and Ivana no longer had the energy to change their minds. She surely was not going to waste her breath on people like Jonathan Campbell, who obviously had no desire to resuscitate the city’s less fortunate. Instead, he was more interested in destroying history for personal gain.

  Ivana glanced at the old, but delicately cared for, grandfather clock in the corner. They hadn’t been here a half-hour. Toby and Sienna still had to talk business.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  ***

  Jonathan leaned back in the chair and mulled over the possible reasons behind his uncharacteristic reaction to the woman sitting across the table.

  What was it about her that fascinated him so? Maybe it’s because she was so unlike any of the women he usually pursued. A challenge.

  He never had to put forth much effort when it came the fairer sex. As soon as most women discovered he was both single and a lawyer, they kicked their game into full gear. Neither his career nor his marital status seemed to matter to Ivana, and that intrigued the heck out of him.

  Hell, maybe she had cast some sort of spell on him. Probably happened back at his office. That’s why he couldn’t think of anything but her.

  Her scent had lingered in the lobby long after she had left on Thursday. After a while, Jonathan had grabbed his notes and legal tablet and set up shop at the parlor’s coffee table. He’d wanted to enjoy her essence for as long as possible.

  And now she sat less than three feet away, with nothing but a pine table and a pecan pie separating them. That and the chip the size of Gibraltar she held on her shoulder. Jonathan had watched her throughout the night. He couldn’t help it. It was as if she held magnets in those astute brown eyes.

  She had conversed with Margo while Toby and Sienna brought him in on the discussion of various alternatives to help promote Aria. But Jonathan found it hard to concentrate on much of anything, save for the woman sitting across the table.

  She had tried not to look at him. In fact, she looked everywhere else—her food, Toby, the ceiling. But when her eyes happened to wander back his way, there was no mistaking her disgust.

  Disgust was the one thing he did not want to elicit in this woman. And not because he was afraid she would fashion a little doll after him and prick it with needles. If Jonathan had his way, he would give Ivana Culpepper something much more exciting to do with her time than calling on spirits and trying to stop people from renovating old buildings.

  Margo rose from the table. “Sorry to leave, but I promised Etta Louis I would help put together care packages
the church is sending for the troops in the Middle East. I’ll be right across the street,” she said.

  “Wait, Mama.” Toby pushed his chair back. “I’ll walk you over there.”

  Margo’s hands flew to her hips. “Tobias Anthony Holmes, I am a grown woman. I am capable of crossing the street by myself, thank you very much.”

  “Do you all need any help putting together the care packages?” Ivana asked.

  Jonathan could not contain his smile as Ivana latched onto an excuse to get out of dodge. She had looked on the verge of bolting all evening. He’d guessed the only reason she remained is because she’d come over with Sienna.

  “No thanks, honey,” Margo answered. “The deaconess board is going to be there. But I can use help with the dishes,” Margo said, looking pointedly at Toby.

  Toby put his hands up. “Sienna and I have to work.”

  “I’ll do the dishes,” Ivana offered. “It’ll give me something to do while I wait for Sienna.”

  Jonathan had to stop himself from rolling up his sleeves at the table. He had never been more excited about busting suds.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Sienna called out to Margo.

  “As I said earlier, my kitchen is always opened to you girls. I’ll leave a container of jambalaya for your mother.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets it,” Sienna said.

  The table’s four remaining occupants rose and started clearing the dishes.

  “I’ve got that,” Ivana said, reaching across the table for Toby’s plate. “You two need to finish your work.”

  So they could leave as soon as possible, Jonathan could practically hear her say. She wanted out of here.

  She was not getting off that easy.

  But before he could even turn toward the kitchen, Toby said, “J., why don’t you join us? You can help brainstorm.”

  Jonathan stifled the curse he nearly let loose. He didn’t want to brainstorm. He didn’t want to do anything that did not involve a certain woman who claimed to be into Voodoo.

  But he didn’t want to broadcast his intentions just yet. At least not to anyone other than Ivana. So instead of saying hell no, which is what he was thinking, Jonathan said, “Sure.”

  They went into the living room. Toby and Sienna sat on the long sofa, while he took a seat in the lounge chair that sat at a right angle, but as soon as his butt hit the chair, Jonathan was ready to get up again. He wanted to be in that kitchen. His mind was focused solely on getting Ivana alone.

  After a full five minutes of not comprehending a single thing that had been discussed, Jonathan lied, saying he had an important call to make, and hopped out of the chair as if it were on fire. He passed through the dining room and stopped in the kitchen doorway. Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, he studied her. She was beautiful. Long, flowing hair, creamy, caramel-colored skin, and a slim, statuesque body that inspired all sorts of illicit thoughts.

  “So, are you going to pretend you don’t know who I am?”

  Her hands stilled. Her back became as rigid as a surfboard. Jonathan contemplated all the things he could do to the smooth column of her neck.

  “I don’t know you,” Ivana finally said. She dunked another dish in the water and continued scrubbing.

  “You can’t make me believe you don’t remember me.”

  “Spending five minutes in the presence of someone does not constitute knowing them. I did not consider you an actual person the other day.” She turned slightly and looked at him over her slim shoulder. “Just a heartless monster with poor decorating taste.”

  Jonathan flattened his palm against his chest as if covering a knife wound. He pushed away from the door jamb and walked over to the double sink, grabbing a dishtowel hanging from the oven’s chrome handle on the way. He helped himself to a bowl and began wiping away the excess moisture.

  “I’ve got this taken care of,” she said.

  “I want to help,” Jonathan replied.

  She turned her attention back to the sink full of sudsy water. She had left the silver bracelet on her left wrist. The overhead light radiated sparks on it every time her hands came out of the water. After a few minutes of a surprisingly comfortable silence, Jonathan realized they could go on like this for the rest of the night. But that’s not what he wanted. Jonathan was determined to learn more about her.

  She fascinated him.

  Jonathan watched as she opened the bottom cabinet and retrieved a small plastic container. She transferred the leftover rice and put the empty rice pot in the sink. Apparently, she wasn’t in a talkative mood.

  He reached for a spoon and gently caressed it with the towel, biding his time.

  Wait. Forget that!

  Time was a precious commodity that was likely running out. Toby and Sienna could not have much more that could be handled over a coffee table discussion. And Jonathan knew as soon as they were finished, Ivana would demand she and Sienna leave.

  If he was going to start up a conversation with her, he’d have to do it now. “So, are you really a Voodoo priestess?”

  “Yes,” she answered. Her eyes remained focused on something outside the window over the sink.

  “How did that come about?” Whether Ivana knew it or not, this wasn’t just small talk on his part. He really was interested. He knew very little about the occult, other than what came out of Hollywood. Actually, the thought of all that stuff scared the hell out of him, but if the typical Voodoo Queen was like Ivana Culpepper, Jonathan was willing to grow a little backbone where this creepy stuff was concerned.

  Ivana ignored his question. For as much lip as she had given him back at his office, she surely was quiet tonight.

  “How long have you been practicing Voodoo?” he tried. At least he geared their one-way conversation toward her interests. Wasn’t the biggest complaint of most women that men only talked about themselves? What more did she want?

  Probably for him to walk in front of a bus.

  Too bad. His grandmamma taught him long ago to look both ways before crossing the street.

  He tried again. “Was this your childhood dream, or did you just happen upon it?” Okay. He’ll admit that was a stupid one, but he was running out of questions. But—look at that—it got her attention.

  Ivana finally turned to him. “You don’t take hints well, do you?”

  Jonathan smiled. “Not really.”

  “Try.”

  “Are you still upset about what happened back at my office?”

  “What is your problem? Didn’t you hear what they said in there?” She pointed to the dining room. “I’m a Voodoo priestess. I rip the heads off chickens with my teeth and crush glass with my bare hands.” Sarcasm oozed out of her mouth. Her eyes teemed with it.

  “And what is that supposed to mean to me?” Jonathan asked.

  “It means you should be running out of the house, trying to get as far away from me as you can,” she answered. The sarcasm in her eyes had been replaced by something else. Was that sadness? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. He much preferred the fire he’d seen in her eyes just a minute ago.

  Jonathan reached into the water and grasped one of her hands. He slowly pulled it out and ran his fingers along the slick, warm flesh. The slight wrinkles from being immersed in water could not detract from the smoothness of her skin.

  “You must be really good at that glass crushing thing.” He turned her hand over and studied her palm, tracing his thumb over it. “I can’t find a single sign of damage.”

  She looked up from where he held her hand, and damn if those big brown eyes didn’t snatch the breath right from his lungs. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. The air around them crackled and sizzled.

  “Ivana, are you just about done?”

  Jonathan’s eyelids slid shut at Sienna’s interruption. Ivana jerked her hand away.

  “I’m done,” she called, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

  “You sure you don’t need me to write the directions to my apartment?�
�� Toby was asking Sienna as they walked into the kitchen.

  “I’ve lived here my entire life.” She laughed. “I think I can find my way around Carrolton.”

  “Okay. Let me just fix a plate to go and I’ll meet you there. All I have to do is print Aria’s schedule off of my hard drive,” Toby said.

  Sienna walked over to Jonathan and held out her hand. “Good luck with the law practice’s grand opening. Hopefully, I won’t have to see you in that capacity.”

  “I doubt you can steer clear of me. I practice contract law, remember. I’m sure our paths will cross.”

  “Well, I’ll just make sure you’re on my side.”

  “For now, why don’t you make plans to be back at the club this Tuesday. I’m going to try establishing a Ladies Night.”

  Still holding her hand, Jonathan bent over and placed a friendly peck on Sienna’s cheek. He turned to Ivana, but the look she gave him said very clearly he had best keep his hands and lips to himself.

  Not for long, the voice in his head sang.

  “Will I see you on Tuesday, Ivana?”

  “I do not patronize establishments such as yours,” she answered.

  The silence that followed her coldly delivered edict was suffocating as everyone stood in the kitchen staring uncomfortably at one another. With that one statement she had undeniably made her feelings known. Jonathan picked up the gauntlet like a fierce warrior. If that is how she wanted to play this, so be it.

  A wide grin spread across his face.

  Let the games begin.

  Chapter Eight

  “Did you have to be so rude?”

  Sienna backed out of the driveway and headed up Amelia Street.

  “Was I rude?”

  Sienna rolled her eyes at Ivana’s laconically spoken words, and wondered just how much of the grief her sister experienced was self-inflicted.

  “Why don’t you try giving people the benefit of the doubt before automatically assuming they are going to treat you differently because of your beliefs? Some of them may surprise you.”