by Dani Wade
Feeling a little sick, Madison handed the phone back. That last picture especially left her feeling like a complete washout as a woman. Blake had spent his life surrounded by gorgeous women who were obviously more on his level...and could actually ride in a yacht without losing their lunch. Heck, they probably owned yachts themselves.
What in the world had he been doing with a down-on-her-luck charity director from New Orleans?
“This guy really lived it up in Europe,” Tamika crowed. “He’s been spotted skiing in the Alps with beautiful women, on all the best beaches, at all the fancy parties. And he doesn’t seem to have a day job, so he’s got to be loaded.”
“Hey, he sounds like a perfect guy to just have fun with,” Trinity mumbled around a bite of cookie.
Madison glared at Trinity for a second, who simply shrugged. Bitterness built up in her throat, roughening her voice as she said, “I have no idea what he was looking for on a date with someone like me, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me hanging over the side of his boat vomiting. I seriously doubt I’ll ever hear from Blake Boudreaux again.”
Madison stared morosely down into the second batch of chocolate chip cookie dough, hating that she cared so much about this...hating that she couldn’t shake it off...hating that she didn’t seem to be the type of woman who could just have fun and not care when things went wrong.
Then she heard a slight giggle from her left, then from her right. She glanced up to find her friends desperately struggling to hold in the laughter. “I’m sorry,” Trinity said. “But the visual your words call to mind is just...”
Tamika couldn’t hold back any longer and burst out in laughter. Madison realized what she’d said and started to smile...then giggle...then laugh. The image of her hanging over the railing, backside in the air, while a sexy, incredibly rich man watched her ralph over the side of his yacht... If she didn’t laugh, she was gonna cry.
Eventually they were all indulging in full-on belly laughs. A sense of gratitude for these good friends who understood her and weren’t afraid of a quirky sense of humor warmed her up. All too soon, they were down to a few chuckles and wiping the tears from their faces as they indulged in another spoonful of dough.
“Thanks, guys,” Madison said as she tried to catch her breath. “I needed that.”
But as she slowly chewed a few chocolate chips, savoring the burst of flavor against her tongue, she sobered. What had a man like that been doing with her? He was obviously sophisticated, and according to the post, he’d been with plenty of women. Model types. Nothing like Madison’s red hair and freckles.
Why had he picked the least likely woman at the party to ask on a date?
“Sometimes I wonder if I was being punked the night we met.” And yesterday. Except she wasn’t anyone anymore. No one would care enough to read about her.
Trinity scoffed. “Of course not! You’re a bright, attractive woman...”
“With a tendency to fatten up everyone around you,” Tamika said with a saucy grin.
“We won’t mention that,” Madison mumbled.
Trinity raised her voice. “Who bakes the best chocolate chip cookies around...”
Not to be outdone, Tamika added, “Along with chocolate chip Bundt cakes, macaroons, apple fritters...”
“So I like to feed people. So what?”
The teasing felt good, though. Madison had gone a long time feeling alone and unappreciated. Not that her daddy hadn’t loved her, but she’d been taking care of him so long that it had become more habit than anything for him to say thank-you. She knew how precious it was to have people in her life who loved her, and she made sure she let them know. Even if it was just by delivering a plate of brownies.
Here, in this kitchen, was the place she’d felt most welcome in her lifetime. That was the most important thing. Not some guy she’d just met and embarrassed herself in front of.
Her phone lit up just then, causing her to glance over at it. Blake’s name flashed on the screen. “I thought for sure I’d deleted that number...” she mumbled, remembering her middle-of-the-night intention.
That was wishful thinking. After all, it wasn’t like she had that many numbers in her phone. She stared at it, trying to decide what to do.
Tamika leaned over the counter for a look. “Girl, he is interested! You’d better answer that.”
With the girls goading her on, Madison reached out and connected the call. The phone was chilly against her ear as she gathered the courage to speak. “Hello,” she croaked.
“Hi, Madison.”
Wow. How could just hearing that deep voice make her chest ache for what could have been? If only she were a different type of person. The kind who went with the flow instead of diving deep into the tide.
“Uh, hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Could she be any more lame? “I mean, everything’s good. Just some motion sickness.” That she hoped never to experience again. “Boats are definitely not for me,” she said, trying to laugh it off.
A glance over at Trinity and Tamika made her cringe. They weren’t even pretending to not eavesdrop. Instead they both nibbled on warm cookies, watching while she agonized over what to say.
“I don’t blame you,” Blake said, then paused. After a long minute of silence, he went on. “Listen, I wondered if you wanted to go out again tomorrow night. Something completely on land this time.”
Madison worried the inside of her bottom lip, trying to decide what to do. Even though they couldn’t hear him, Trinity had a slightly skeptical look on her face. Tamika, on the other hand, was giving her the thumbs-up. For someone who came to Maison de Jardin after being in an abusive relationship, Tamika had managed to maintain her belief that a happily-ever-after was somehow attainable. Or at the very least, that a couple of good nights could be salvaged from the situation.
“Madison? You there?”
Out of the blue, a wave of nausea hit her. It ebbed, then flowed, just as it had with the motion of the boat. Maybe she just wasn’t ready?
She was shaking her head before the words tumbled out of her mouth. “No, I don’t think so, Blake. Goodbye.”
She stared down at the phone in her hand, wondering what the heck just happened. For a woman who had been determined a few days ago that she needed a little fun in her life, this had been the most stressful attempt at fun she’d ever known.
It reminded her of her attempts throughout the years to carve out time for herself as a caregiver. She’d known she needed to renew her energy, to rest, but it had been too complicated to make it worth her while. By the time she’d hit on the one thing that brought her joy and was easy to fit into their lives, her father had fallen into a rapid decline. Death had followed not a month later.
A glance up showed a mixture of dismay and understanding on her friend’s faces. Madison just continued to shake her head. “What the heck is wrong with me?”
Four
So Madison had forced him to move to plan C.
Blake couldn’t believe it when Madison turned down his request for another date. What was he, the plague? She was nothing like any of the women he’d dated before, but he was realizing that that was part of what kept him intrigued.
He knew from being with her that Madison wasn’t a typical woman, wealthy or otherwise. She’d had a very unique upbringing; she had an altruistic focus in her life. A unique woman called for a unique approach. Somehow he knew he wasn’t giving her what she needed.
This was taking him a little while to figure out, because rejection was not his usual experience in life. It wasn’t typical in his general daily dealings, in his business interactions and certainly not in his relationships. Not that he’d really call what he had relationships.
They were more like encounters, he realized.
Not one-night stands exactly, but his interactions with
women rarely got too deep no matter how many times he saw them. He liked it that way. He kept it that way, because then he didn’t have to deal with any ugly emotions or pain. The few tantrums or hissy fits he’d encountered had been surface-level, because the last thing he’d allowed was for any woman to get attached.
If there was one thing his father had inadvertently taught him, it was that the more you loved someone, the more they could hurt you.
Blake found a place to park his car, then got out and started to walk. To the casual onlooker, he was just strolling. Blake knew his destination, but he wasn’t in any hurry to get there. He’d give Madison time to get settled in, and then he could show up. The edge of the Garden District at night was just as beautiful as it was during the day. The shadows of the stately homes created mystery and intrigue, showcasing a history that was barely hinted at in a casual glance. It was still early, but the heat had dissipated, allowing him to walk in relative comfort.
He was surprised he’d caught this little tidbit of Madison’s life in the PI’s notes. Though he’d read through the file his father had given him before, Madison’s actions had sent him back to the drawing board. Another thorough read had shown him one line that he’d missed the first time around.
Sometime during the last year of her father’s illness, Madison had managed to find herself a new side gig: singing. The little neighborhood pub was not too far from her house. As a matter of fact, it was within walking distance. She’d lucked out that it was so close, which had probably given her a chance to sneak away at night...maybe when her father was sleeping. There she spent a couple of hours creating atmosphere for those around her, and dreams for herself.
That little discovery had made having to reread the story of her sad upbringing worth it.
His father had been a big motivator, too. Surprise, surprise. After his continued refusal to let Blake see Abigail, Blake had confronted him to demand proof that she was okay. His father had once again refused, stating that Blake hadn’t made any kind of progress that was worth rewarding him for.
He’d later called the housekeeper, who had loudly told him she could give him no updates, then whispered she was fine. But the ticking clock in his brain told him he had to do something soon, or else Abigail might not be there for him to see. He could only hope that Sherry would continue to keep an eye on her. He had a feeling that if time ran out, she’d either have a medical episode, or his father would end up sending her away.
Blake noticed his destination up ahead on the right. The little neighborhood hub was a hole in the wall that only locals would know about. The single door and dusty windows weren’t enough to draw in tourists.
As Blake approached, he could smell a whiff of alcohol and a slight smokiness coming from the entrance, even though patrons were no longer allowed to smoke inside. He paused not far from the door, leaning against one of the support posts. A soft amber light glowed behind the milky windowpanes.
The voice hit him in a smooth, insistent way. He would have recognized it anywhere...but Madison’s husky tone was enhanced somehow by the song. He closed his eyes and let the wave wash over him. The undertow was so smooth he would have willingly followed it anywhere. Suddenly Blake understood the stories he’d heard about sirens. He could feel himself falling under her spell; the words didn’t even need to mean anything. It was simply a sound that filled empty parts of his soul he didn’t even know he had.
In a moment of panic, his heart picked up speed. It felt as if something out of the ordinary was happening, and he might never be the same. Logically Blake scoffed at the idea. Still his heart and lungs continued to race.
“Incredible, isn’t she?”
With a jerk, Blake realized he wasn’t alone. In the dim light beneath the awning, he’d missed the grizzled bouncer seated on a stool on the opposite side of the doorway. His knee-length shorts, button-down shirt, leather vest and chest-length beard announced him as a biker all the way. His smile revealed a couple of broken teeth.
“Our Maddie is something else, right?” he asked again.
Blake nodded, still feeling a bit too unsteady to leave the support of the post. “Sure is,” he said simply.
“The regulars love her, for good reason. I’ve heard a lot of talented voices in New Orleans, but hers is one of the best. Untrained, but still smooth as silk. She could tell you to go to hell and make you enjoy the ride.”
Blake chuckled, then straightened up and paid the cover charge.
“Enjoy,” the bouncer said.
Blake made his way through the tight quarters right inside the door. The bar was there on the left, the wood smooth and aged but still glossy. A couple of tables on the right were sparsely populated.
Several feet in, the room widened, opening into a much larger space with multiple tables. The crowd had gathered here to listen to Maddie sing.
Blake didn’t bother with a table. Instead he slipped along the back wall and stood in the shadows to watch the sexy woman in the spotlight. She wore a simple blue dress that revealed curves he remembered from the first night he’d met her. She barely moved, yet somehow she gave the impression of keeping time with the music. Her gorgeous auburn waves were pulled up and back from her face, revealing the smooth column of her neck.
Once again the words of the song rolled over him, tempting him to let his eyes drift closed so he could absorb every one. But he couldn’t take his gaze from the woman on the stage. Her voice washed over him, luring him to stay, breaking through his barriers piece by piece.
“Can I get you a drink, hon?”
Blake realized he had indeed let his eyes drift shut. He glanced over at the waitress, whose expression was hard to make out in the dim light. He requested a whiskey, then turned back toward the stage, but the mood had been broken. He found himself a table and had a seat. The waitress delivered his drink. He sipped at it every couple minutes, letting the burn coat his throat.
Almost too soon Madison’s set was done. He saw the waitress whisper to her and nod in his direction. He wasn’t sure how she’d known he was here for her, but even from across the bar he could see the flush that stained Madison’s cheeks.
She should be used to men being drawn in by her voice, so was the blush for him in particular?
She approached and slid into the seat across from him.
“Drink?” he asked.
She shook her head, and something inside him became impatient. The urge to hear her speak, to compare that voice to the one he’d heard from the stage, grew as the seconds slid by.
But when she did speak, her voice came out hard. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here. No one is supposed to know—”
He leaned back in his chair. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected. “I’m just glad I did.”
“I’m not.”
Blake frowned, surprised by the pushback. “Why?”
She drew in a deep breath, glancing around as she slowly released it. “I’ve just never shared this with anyone before. It’s private.”
Blake perused the people filling the small bar. But it was the room itself that helped him understand her protest. The stage was lit with a spotlight, but the rest of the room was cast in dusky shadow. Here Madison could have her own space, indulge in something she loved, practically anonymously, and be free of her burdens for a few hours.
“I know it doesn’t make sense—”
“No, Madison. It’s okay. I’m sorry for intruding.”
She swallowed and dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “Why are you here?” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to catch it over the people speaking now that the music had ended.
“I’ve never explored much of New Orleans, so I decided to take a walk and happened by.” Which sounded lame, even to him. “I got drawn right in. Your voice is incredible, Madison.” There you go. Distract her with the partial truth. “I feel pri
vileged to have heard you sing.”
“No. Why are you here with me?” She patted the table with her palms in emphasis. “Why are you even interested in me?”
“Madison...” He wasn’t sure what to say. The answer to that became more complicated with every minute he sat here.
“You shouldn’t be. I’m not like them.”
“Who?”
“The women in the pictures. I saw them online.” She shook her head. “I’m not like them. I’m broke and awkward and a caretaker and have obligations. I’m just not a casual kind of person, Blake. I want to be...but I don’t know how.”
Every word rang in his head, confirming why he was here. She wasn’t anything like what he was used to—and he liked that. The fact that her assumptions about him were so close to what he was like any other day made him angry. At himself, for being so shallow. At her, for buying into his public image.
True panic sizzled up until it popped like a champagne cork. “Damn it. Don’t you think I know that, Madison? With all those women, nothing about them kept me coming back. But I can’t stop coming back to you. Do you even understand what that means?”
Where had that come from? They stared at one another in silence. Blake breathed hard, his mind racing. His brain replayed the words he’d said, words he wished he could take back. It was a truth he hadn’t wanted to face...much less blurt out to Madison like that.
But he couldn’t take it back...so he waited.
His heart pounded as he kept waiting for her answer. As much as he wanted to convince himself that his nerves hinged on Abigail’s fate, that it was about his father’s demands, deep down he knew he’d just made it something more. Something personal.
Was that why this felt more real than anything he’d ever experienced before?
Then she spoke. “For something that was supposed to be just fun, this has sure gotten complicated.”
Her words, so closely echoing his own thoughts, startled him. He quickly hid his reaction and asked, “What do you mean?”