Authors: Jeanie London
When the door creaked open, Bree decided to play it safe.
“Mr. Josie’s Brother from California,” she called out. “I surrender. I’m not here to rob the place. I just sort of…dropped by for an unexpected visit.”
Her voice echoed eerily through the darkness. Blinking furiously to adjust her sight, she crouched in the shrubs like a sitting duck, unable to hear a thing above the sound of the wind rustling through the branches of an overhead tree and her own aching pulse.
And just when she could finally differentiate the outline of the hedge behind the strings of solar lights, Bree found herself blinded yet again by a wickedly bright flashlight.
Suddenly the man himself appeared, and she hadn’t even heard him coming.
“You’re one of the twins who live in Number One.”
“Guilty.”
He lowered the beam from her face, and she could almost make him out—lots of bare skin and chiseled features. Even half-blinded, she could see the man was even more striking up close than he’d been from far away.
“So what did I do to deserve a visit from such an illustrious person at this time of night?” he asked.
“Illustrious? What did I do?”
“Found the captain’s treasure.”
And here Bree thought she’d made an honest impression. “Actually, my sister found the treasure.”
“Still part of an illustrious family.”
Bree inclined her head. No lie there. “Bree Addison, descendent of Gabriel Dampier, captain of the privateer ship Crescent.”
He shifted the light over the gold spangles littering the ground and grabbed her hand with a strong grip. “Lucas Russell. Number Sixteen. You weren’t kidding when you said ‘dropped by.’”
“Unfortunately.”
He chuckled, and the deep, throaty sound rippled silkily through her.
Surprise, surprise. Adrenaline must be doing all sorts of screwy things, because under normal circumstances, Bree wouldn’t have given this guy a reaction no matter how attractive he was. Not a man who was a carbon copy of those she catered to at work.
With Lucas Russell’s solid grip providing leverage, she cautiously extricated herself from the shrubs. She swallowed back a groan when every muscle in her body throbbed in protest and spangles showered the ground at her feet.
She tried not to think about how she must look with foliage in her hair, in her clothes, in her shoes.
All things considered…Bree had fared remarkably well. No broken bones. One very handsome savior, whether she was interested or not.
Things were looking up.
Lucas helped extricate her from the tangle of her coat and steadied her against him, bringing her up close and personal to a whole bunch of naked man. She found herself distracted from her aches and pains long enough to notice shoulders so broad she couldn’t see around them.
He towered above her, and she wasn’t exactly short. But even more striking was the strength she felt in the hand he kept locked around hers, the warmth of his skin. After all the shocks she’d gotten tonight—both good and bad—Bree shouldn’t have had any energy left to react to this man.
But she was reacting,
big.
Especially when he raked his gaze over her. The darkness hid the color of his eyes, but he was clearly inspecting her for damage. She must have looked as bad as she felt, because his eyebrows knitted in a frown.
Lucas, however, looked as good as he felt. At this close
vantage, his face was all cut lines and chiseled angles. He was handsome in a very aggressive, male way.
She should have been immune. Damn adrenaline.
“You’re bleeding.” The flashlight beam traveled down her leg.
One glance at the carnage of tattered hose stained with blood and she did groan. “So I am. Guess I’ll say thanks and be on my way. It was a pleasure.”
She moved to extricate herself from him, but Lucas didn’t let go. “Come inside. Let’s take a look at your leg.”
“I appreciate the offer, but there’s no need. Just a few scratches. I’ll live.”
“I’m trained in emergency first aid.”
“Really? Josie said you were the king of a software empire. Do your subjects get hurt working with the keyboard and mouse?”
“I write law-enforcement software,” he said drily. “I spend a lot of time consulting with various national agencies and participating in training so I can target their needs.”
Great. Jude Robicheaux was back in town and she’d run for cover to a man with law-enforcement connections.
Why had she thought she’d been dealt a decent hand tonight again?
Raking her gaze down all that yummy skin, she tried to assess the threat. Any man who rescued a lady from treacherous shrubbery wearing only a skimpy towel couldn’t be all bad, could he?
“Can you walk or shall I carry you?” he asked.
Yummy or not, Lucas was determined to get his way. It was in his almost amused tone, in the grip that assured her he had no intention of letting go.
No surprises here. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”
“It is. I’m not dressed to walk you home.”
“I’d argue. The neighbor ladies would love watching you parade through the court in your towel.”
He blinked in surprise, and under any other circumstances, Bree might have laughed.
Not tonight.
Like it or not, without knowing why Jude had followed her, she wasn’t all that eager to head home yet herself. About the last thing she wanted was to meet him on her doorstep. Not in her present condition. And definitely not in the dark.
Bree didn’t have too many options right now, and stalling seemed like a good one. If Lucas wanted to play the knight in skimpy towel then she’d be a fool not to oblige.
“Well, then, thank you.” Tipping her gaze to stare into his face, she found herself almost startled again by his sheer maleness. He’d been handsome from across a banquet hall, but up close…“I appreciate the help.”
He only inclined his head in that regal way of the wealthy, as if it was both his privilege and duty to help those in need. Ever the gentleman, he didn’t mention the golden trail of spangles she left in her wake to mark a trail for the squirrels.
He didn’t release her hand while leading her across the yard. She almost smiled at how he managed to look large and in charge while walking through damp grass half-naked and barefoot.
It was in the DNA. Had to be.
He held the door as she slipped inside, then motioned her to a breakfast nook separating the dining room from the kitchen.
“Have a seat while I hunt down Josie’s first-aid kit.”
“Yes, Lucas.” Bree did as he asked, appreciating a chance to admire the back half of him as he strode from the room.
Very nice indeed.
Everything about this man was attractive, she decided, exhaling a sigh that had nothing to do with her bumps and bruises. She wasn’t hurt, not really, just achy and sore from the fall and jittery from too much adrenaline.
Slipping off her coat, Bree hiked up her dress to rig broken threads of sequins so she wouldn’t trash the town house. She’d been inside once before, and even with the huge windows shuttered against the night, Josie’s place managed to be as warm and welcoming as Josie herself.
The spacious rooms were filled with stylish wicker and sunny colors and woodwork painted bright white. Bree thought the look contrasted nicely with the weathered exteriors and ornate ironwork that made up all the centuries-old town houses in historic Court du Chaud.
As she and her sister had only moved into the court last year, Bree didn’t know Josie all that well. They both worked a lot. Bree divided her time between Toujacques and her moonlighting for a local fashion designer, so get-togethers generally happened at homeowners’ association and Krewe du Chaud meetings or brush-bys for coffee in Café Eros, the bistro where her sister worked.
But Bree liked Josie and wished her well in married life. Many of the court’s residents seemed to be getting on with their futures lately. Even Tally had gotten engaged to Christien and bought the nightclub she’d been longing for. Claire and Randy had hooked up. Perry and Jack, too. And after learning about her shot at the head hostess job tonight, Bree had thought she’d been moving on with her life, too.
Until her past had followed her home.
“Found it,” Lucas said when he returned from upstairs.
He’d thrown on sweatpants, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have been so affected by this man if she hadn’t met him when he’d been half-naked.
Probably. The man was gorgeous, all touchable and male. Not at all like Jude, who was almost too pretty to be real. Up close Lucas had the same sable-colored hair as his sister and eyes as bright green. The combination tempered his chiseled features. Otherwise that strong face and drop-dead gorgeous body combined made him almost too male. If such a thing was possible.
Setting the first-aid kit on the table, Lucas sank to his knees in front of her. He hesitated with his hands poised over her ankle and asked, “Do you mind?”
“Have at it.” Lifting aside her destroyed dress, she gave him a bird’s-eye view of the carnage.
Both knees were a mess. Scratches streaked her skin, and blood had congealed on the torn edges of her hose. One particularly nasty branch had carved a crevasse up her thigh.
Lucas frowned and stood again, giving her a tour of that magnificent chest as he grabbed the kit again and said, “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the sink.”
Okay, there was no arguing she needed soap and water. She’d come out on the bad end of the dirt and mulch in Josie’s flower bed, so she followed him into the kitchen without comment.
Lucas flipped on a light, deposited the kit on the counter and ran the water. “Take off your stockings.”
“We only met ten minutes ago.”
He laughed. “We need to clean those cuts well or you’ll wind up wishing you did. Trust me.”
“Another lesson learned in law-enforcement training?”
“From my mother.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’m sure she tended lots of boo-boos while you were growing up.”
His expression morphed into a full-fledged smile that softened his features and brightened his eyes and coaxed a reaction low in her belly. A crazy sort of swooping feeling that distracted her from her aches and pains.
“I’d be lying if I said no. Now lose the stockings.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” She made a little
humph
sound and couldn’t resist giving him a show while slithering her hose out from underneath her dress.
She could feel his gaze on her when she bent over to unfasten her sandals and wondered if he noticed the way her neckline drooped, if he watched her cleavage plump forward. Did he think she was taunting him? Or flirting?
She wasn’t entirely sure which it was herself.
There was something about this man that made Bree want a reaction. Probably nothing more than a need to flex her control muscles after the shock of seeing Jude again.
And she got one.
Lucas grabbed her, strong hands circling her waist. He lifted her up to a seat on the counter and without preamble he brushed aside her torn dress and got to business.
She braced back on her arms, feeling a bit breathless as he cleansed her skin with soapy gauze.
“That feel okay?” he asked.
“I’ll live.”
“So why’d you drop by tonight?”
Questions were inevitable, but she had to give Lucas credit for not starting the interrogation the minute he found her.
“I noticed someone following me while I was walking
home from work. It was late, and I’m not exactly dressed to defend myself. I decided to beat a hasty retreat.”
He peered at her from beneath the silky fringe of thick lashes. “So you scaled a wall in a formal gown and high heels? I’m impressed. What kind of work do you do?”
This was another question she’d expected, and Bree wondered what type of work he thought she did.
Evening formal wear. Three in the morning. Dark street.
Hmm.
“I work at Toujacques. I’m a VIP hostess.”
“Do you always walk home from work?”
“Not when it’s so late. I normally drive.”
“But not tonight.”
“Not tonight.” She knew he was waiting for some further explanation, but she wasn’t volunteering any. He didn’t need to know that her brother had flown home for the weekend from college and had borrowed her Jeep.
But to her surprise, Lucas didn’t push. He just tossed the filthy gauze in the trash and lathered a new batch with soap under running water. He started working on her other knee and went back to his original line of questioning.
“Did this someone threaten you?” he asked.
“Didn’t give him a chance. Didn’t want to lead him to my front door, either, so here I am.”
Bree expected a lecture on the perils of walking through the French Quarter alone at night. Men like Lucas were invariably throwbacks from the feudal days when the rich and powerful protected the weak and defenseless.
But instead of a warning, Bree got strong hands on her thighs. It was a casual touch—if any stranger’s touch in such an intimate place could really be casual.
Perfunctory
might be a better description. The thing was…his touch didn’t feel perfunctory.
Even though he only tended her cut, she felt him everywhere. Heat melted through her, and she was so very aware of her parted thighs. Probably because she didn’t wear panties beneath her panty hose, which put this man’s strong hands in very close proximity to some oh-so-bare private places.
“So are you enjoying your stay in New Orleans?” she asked to distract herself from the feel of his hands and to end the discussion about why she’d dropped in for a visit.
“I always enjoy coming home.”
“Josie told me she bought this place from your parents after they retired to Florida. You were reared here?”
“Court du Chaud homegrown.”
Ironic that he’d take off for California when she and Tally had always thought the court would be the best place in the world to live. “Is that why you’re hanging around while Josie and Max are on their honeymoon? Visiting friends?”
“One of the reasons. My parents stayed after the wedding, too. I wanted to see them off. And my sister has me doing some work around here.”