Cajun Spice (2 page)

He was right behind her as she made her way into the very busy lobby, a bag hanging over one shoulder, a small carry-on in her other hand. As she expected, the line at the registration desk was long. She sighed, settled her suitcase on its wheels, and prepared to wait.

Marc, on the other hand, carried his things to the head bellman and stood to the side, catching the eye of one of the desk clerks. The man smiled, nodded, and in a moment, handed Marc an envelope, apparently with his key card.

“Are you some kind of special guest?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“My company took care of everything, so all I have to do is breeze in. Here.” He held out his free hand. “Give me your identification, and I’ll get them to slide you in.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she protested, flipping a hand at the crowd. “These people are all waiting in line ahead of me.”

“Come on,” he persisted. Then he winked. “What are friends for if not to help each other?” He grinned, dimples flashing and humor dancing in his eyes. “I promise I’m trustworthy. And you can stand right here and watch me.”

It sure would be nice to avoid the mob and get up to her room so she could shower, change, and get out to have some fun. Maybe she owed it to herself, considering the mess her life was in.

“Okay. Thank you.” She dug in her purse for her driver’s license and
the
credit card. If it was cancelled, she’d have to pay for the hotel with one of her own cards, but she hoped she could at least soak Craig—wherever he was—with this bill. She handed both items to Marc.

“Back in a sec.”

He slid through a door behind the registration desk. Was he a friend of the manager? Or some kind of celebrity she should know about? While she was still trying to figure it out, one of the clerks picked up his phone, spoke briefly, and nodded. Minutes later, Marc emerged from wherever he’d gone, stopping by the clerk long enough to receive an envelope and smile his thanks.

“Here you go. Key card and your identification.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” She was overwhelmed at the ease with which he’d handled it. Exactly what kind of business was he in, anyway? Must be one with a lot of clout.

He retrieved his things from the bellman and nudged her with his shoulder. “Elevator’s this way.”

As expected, the lobby was jammed with partygoers, many of them already decked out in the famous Mardi Gras beads. A lot of them had the trademark Mardi Gras plastic drink cups in their hands. From the laughter and loud voices, it was evident they’d had at least one stroll through the French Quarter and gotten their take-out drinks. Daisy managed to navigate to the elevator without anyone spilling a drink on her then squished into the crowded car with Marc right beside her.

“Can you push twelve, please?” she asked the woman standing by the panel. “Thank you.”

The elevator made four stops before they got to her floor. She tugged her suitcase out and turned to wave at Marc, only to find him right beside her.

“My floor, too.” He winked.

She stared at him. “Did you do this on purpose?”

He shrugged and winked at her again. “Just got lucky, I guess. So, how about you take your stuff to your room and meet me back here at the elevator in”—he looked at his watch— “thirty minutes.”

“You mean you didn’t arrange for adjoining rooms?”

He snapped his fingers. “Damn. I knew he forgot something. Maybe I’ll work on that. Will half an hour give you enough time?”

Daisy blinked. “For what?”

“To get ready to Mardi Gras. I grew up not far from here, so this is almost like my hometown. I think the least I could do is show a pretty lady the ropes.”

She snorted. “Does that line work for you a lot?”

He burst out laughing, a rich, deep sound. “Not really, but I keep trying. Come on, how about it? I don’t have any meetings today, so I could show you the ropes. I mean, it being your first time and all.”

Well, Daisy, what the hell? Why not? Didn’t I say I needed a sexy guy to help me enjoy the celebration? And here he is.
”

“Thank you.” She curved her lips in a smile. And damn, wasn’t he easy to smile at? “I’ll take you up on it, then. Thirty minutes. Right here.”

“See you then.” He walked away toting his luggage, his long stride loose-hipped and easy.

Daisy stared after him for a long moment. She felt almost as if someone had cast one of New Orleans’ famous spells on her, thrusting her into Marc Doucet’s charmed circle.

This will definitely be interesting. I might even manage to forget the disaster my life has become for a while.

If anyone could help her, it was the spicy Cajun Marc Doucet.

*****

Marc yanked off his jacket, tossed it on the bed, and punched a number on his cell.

“I’m here,” he told his boss, Larry Choate, Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s New York field office. “And I’ve made contact.”

“Was it difficult?” Larry asked. “Does she suspect anything?”

“Easier than I thought.” He told him about the cab ride and checking in. “I don’t think she knows Myers cancelled the credit card.”

“Reactivating it gave us another electronic trail to follow. A way to track her movements. I know you haven’t had much time with her yet, but what’s your take on her?”

Marc ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about Daisy Karr. “If I didn’t have the file you gave me, I’d tell you we’re wasting our time. My first reaction is she’s not involved at all. And no, she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Well,” Larry said, “that’s what you’re there to find out. She and Myers lived together, were practically engaged, and worked for the same investment firm. She was an accountant in a position to help him cover his embezzling.”

“I hear you. I just…. She just doesn’t give off that kind of vibe.”

“Uh-huh.” Skepticism edged Larry’s voice. “I’m looking at her picture right now, and she’s damn good looking.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Marc snapped. “You know I can be objective or you wouldn’t give me the cases you do.”

“Do us both a favor and make sure you don’t let your dick lead you around.” Larry snorted. “I’ve heard the tales about you and that hot Cajun blood in your veins.”

“Listen, Larry,” Marc began, his Cajun blood beginning to boil. His boss knew him better than that.

“Just kidding, just kidding.” The man laughed. “You may have a well-earned rep as a ladies man, but it has never interfered with your job and I don’t expect it ever will. As a matter of fact, I figured it would be an asset this time.”

“Yeah?” Marc got a tight feeling in his gut. “How so?”

“You know Daisy Karr claimed she knew nothing about Myers’ hijinks, that he walked off and left her high and dry, too. At least that’s what she told the agents who questioned her. What’s your take on it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Marc leaned back in the comfortable chair, the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. “I haven’t had that much time to assess the situation. First guess? I’d say she got taken along with everyone else.”

“Or she could be a really good actress,” his boss reminded him. “Your job is to find out which. And to see if she knows where he stashed the money.”

“Sure makes us look bad when he’s been able to pull it off without us finding a trace.”

“No shit. We managed to follow all the transfers, but now the money seems to have disappeared into thin air. The accounts are closed, and there’s no trail for us to follow. If he’s pulled it out and physically moved it somewhere else, we’ll have a bitch of a time locating it. She’s a hotshot accountant. She could have set it all up for him.” Larry cleared his throat. “Use that famous Cajun charm on her and she’ll tell you what you want to know. Get her in the Mardi Gras spirit and I have confidence you can seduce it out of her.”

Marc grimaced. He’d do it, but he’d feel like a shit for it. Larry didn’t mean seduce in the true meaning of the word. He meant romance her and flatter her and get her to let down her guard. The problem was, in the short time he’d been with her, Marc wanted to do a hell of a lot more, and he felt like shit because of it. Would he be able to resist that look in her eyes he’d seen before she carefully blanked them? The look that said,
Can you help me forget the mess of my life?

He listened while Larry brought him up to date on all the information they had so far and pointed out again where there were spaces in the report he hoped Marc would be able to fill in.

Marc heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ll do my best to see if she knows anything and what that might be.”

“I trust your judgment,” his boss reminded him.

“Thanks. Good to know.”

“When will I hear from you again?”

“I’m meeting her in thirty to wander through the French Quarter and soak up some atmosphere. Maybe dinner afterwards so sometime this evening.” He paused, knowing there was a chance things might escalate if his body kicked his brain to the curb. “Tomorrow at the latest.”

There was a long pause. “Marc, don’t get yourself in a mess with this woman. I trust you, but right now she’s the only lead we have to Craig Myers. If you somehow blow it, we’re screwed.”

“I know that, Chief. Believe me.”

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

Marc clicked off and sat sprawled in his chair, staring at the cell phone but not seeing it. He had always prided himself on his instincts. That was how he’d gotten himself appointed to this special task force. He was seldom wrong about people and didn’t want this to be the first time. Because he hadn’t gotten any bad vibes from Daisy his Karr at all. None. Zilch. Nada. Zip. Although she did her best to conceal it, he could tell she was hurt by Myers’ actions, disappointed and angry. But most of all hurt. That wasn’t someone who had been a willing accomplice.

What troubled him even more was his instant attraction to her, stronger than he’d ever felt for any woman before. It had smacked him right in the gut and held on like tentacles. He could lecture his cock and his brain all he wanted, but this woman somehow got in under the wall of his self-discipline. He was afraid of what would happen if they were alone together. It was a lot more than the physical. Daisy Karr was the kind of woman who appealed to him on all levels. On the taxi ride to the hotel he’d assessed her as a bright, funny, intelligent woman, someone who, when her life was not in turmoil, was the kind of woman every man wanted.

Their short time together had made him realize that.

Checking his watch, he realized he had little time left before meeting Daisy. He stripped off his suit, splashed water on his face, and pulled on a pair of jeans and his standard New Orleans tee shirt with the legend
Laissez les bon temps rouler
—Let the good times roll—emblazoned on the front. He grabbed his wallet and room key and stuffed them in his pockets. He felt naked without his gun, but he’d chosen not to fly with it for a lot of reasons. He’d pick one up from the local office.

Hustling down the hall, he saw Daisy already waiting for him and nearly stumbled over his own feet. He took a look at her and his mouth watered, and the very dick his boss had warned him about sent him an urgent message. Daisy had ditched her conservative traveling clothes and changed into jeans that hugged her curves like a glove and a hot-pink tee shirt that fell softly against nicely rounded breasts. The thin strap of a cross-body purse fell right between those luscious breasts that he wanted to reach out and cup. She had released her tawny brown hair from its clip and it fell in a riot of waves to her shoulders.

Fuck!

He was in such trouble here.

Business, he told himself. This is business.

Yeah, right.

She smiled when she saw him, a tiny dimple winking at one corner of her freshly glossed lips. Expectation danced in her hazel eyes. Fuck again. Using his so-called charm on her would be easy. She made it easy. But he felt like a first class heel knowing she had no idea what his end game was. And fully aware that his body wanted to do a lot more to her than flatter and romance.

“Ready?” she asked him.

Oh yeah, he was ready. But for the wrong thing. Damn, damn, damn. This had seemed like such a simple assignment, one he’d accepted many times before. But none of the other women he’d wined and dined for information had shocked his senses the way this one did.

“Absolutely.” He cupped her elbow, trying not to inhale the subtle fragrance that surrounded her. “Let’s go have fun.”

Fun. Yeah.
Business, Marc. Remember that.

Daisy sipped her Hurricane in its go-cup and let her gaze slide lazily over the scene around her. The sidewalks were jammed with crowds celebrating the unique holiday, laughing and waving to others draped over balcony rails. Music blared from open windows, and people danced in the streets, ignoring the traffic that crawled at a snail’s pace.

She hadn’t really thought she’d be able to get into a party mood. The hurt of Craig’s betrayal still weighed heavy on her, dulling the edge of her enthusiasm. How could he have done this to her? What was he thinking? And worse, what kind of judge of character was she to have been taken in so completely? And for the first couple of hours or so, she’d still had that uptight I-am-so-pissed-off and-hurt feeling.

But Marc was such a good companion—date?—he made it next to impossible to be in anything but a festive mood. He kept up a running commentary in that rich Cajun voice of his, whispering in her ear, his hand always at her elbow guiding her through the mass of people. Touching her shoulder, brushing her hair back from her face. When one drink made her a little tipsy and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since toast at breakfast that morning, he steered her into a crowded little café and ordered bowls of gumbo and rice for both of them.

Why couldn’t she have met him first, before Craig stole her faith and optimism? This was the kind of man she should be with, warm and sexy and totally focused on her. Not a three-piece suit more in love with himself than her or anyone else. Impressed with who he was and crooked enough to steal millions of dollars from unsuspecting people. It would be nice if this could last more than a few days, but she wasn’t deluding herself. She was sure all he was interested in was having a good time with her at Mardi Gras, just as she was. She should probably shut off her brain, enjoy this while it lasted, and hope that somewhere in the future she’d meet someone like him. Maybe after the mess her life was in got straightened out.