Authors: Liz Talley
Her stomach sank. “Of course not. We covered it up, but the idea of me out in the woods meeting someone looks suspicious.”
Ace remained silent.
“I’m looking at it from his point of view, and if I were him, I’d be wary giving out information to someone like me.” Ace finally grunted, but not in an encouraging way. “Look, I trust him. He’s a good guy and the son of the lady we’re staying with. I think it would be the right move.”
She had rolled the dice, but she stood by her assessment. Tomorrow on the way to wherever it was Nate was taking her and Spencer, she’d test the waters. She hoped her perception of Nate wasn’t colored by the fact she longed to run her tongue over his stomach and devour him like a Godiva chocolate. She shook the thought from her head. Watch it, chica. You’ll end up writing parking tickets if you keep thinking like that.
“Fine,” Sterling conceded, “but on a need-to-know basis, when you think the time is right. Hopefully, he’ll be discreet and not blow your cover.”
“Yeah,” Annie said, before hanging up. An uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach, but she leaned more toward trusting Nate than she did trying to go it alone. At this point, she’d take the gamble.
She withdrew a tube of creamy pink lipstick from the Fendi patchwork bag Tawny had insisted she carry and swiped it over her lips. Then she slid the tube next to her gun. She’d debated over taking her weapon, but it made her feel stronger. More like the Annie she wanted to be. Not like a probationary member of a security firm.
She put the car in Reverse and backed out of the drive, praying she’d be able to suffer through drinks at the Stumpwater Inn and hoping tonight would bring her some luck in finding a clue to who might be toying with the Keene family.
She had to stop thinking so much about Nate and start thinking about the job.
Put Nate Out of Your Mind was her new motto.
At least for the night.
SET OFF I-10, THE Stumpwater Inn wasn’t a dump, but it wasn’t exactly the Ritz. Nate smelled the local hot spot as soon as the door whooshed open. Nothing like cigarettes and booze to compliment the scent of sanitized lobby with hunter-green carpet faded to match the couches by the coffee bar. Behind the oak reservation desk was Rosie Chatelaine, who waved at him with a quizzical smile.
Yeah, it had been a while since he’d been here.
He didn’t bother to stop and chat. Wanted to get this over with as soon as he could, so he veered toward Gerry’s. During the day, the club served a country-style buffet, but at night it offered live music and ladies’ night specials. Nate went a couple of times when he first moved back to Bayou Bridge, before he stopped drinking whiskey, before he realized Gerry’s was filled with people looking to get filled up on something other than booze, before the club scene depressed him.
He pulled open the door and was immediately assaulted by music and the stronger smell of cigarette smoke, though smoking was prohibited. Dave Reneau warmed up his fiddle over the Def Leppard blaring through the bar speakers as the bartender and a buxom redhead slid longnecks along the worn bar to men wearing too much cologne and women wearing not enough clothing.
Nothing unusual for a Thursday night.
“Yo, Nate Dufrene. My eyes lyin’, or what?”
A hand slammed onto his shoulder, and he turned to find his old high school baseball coach standing at the end of the bar wearing a leather jacket two sizes too small and washed-out jeans that had seen better days if the ripped knees were any indication.
“Coach Bell.” Nate nodded.
“Aw, hell. Don’t call me Coach in here. Call me Greg.” The man looked around as if some of the barfly broads might catch wind he was twenty years too old to be bar hopping. “How’s Abram? What’s ULB looking like for the Auburn game? The line is tight and I don’t wanna lose my shirt.”
Nate shrugged. “No clue.”
He didn’t want to talk about football. He did that every day, thanks to having a brother who was a University of Louisiana Baton Rouge tight-ends coach. He glanced around and that’s when he saw the nanny.
Annie Perez perched on a bar stool looking like an ad for naughty.
He actually did a double take.
It was her, and yet it wasn’t.
She wore a short skirt of silvery gray and a tight sleeveless shirt that had flower on it. Her hair curled around a black rose and she wore lipstick.
His groined tightened at the sight of those plump lips covered in silky-looking lipstick. It wasn’t bright and whorish. Just subtle light pink, beckoning light pink, gotta taste them light pink.
“Excuse me, Coach. I see someone I need to talk to,” Nate said, stepping in Annie’s direction.
“Oh, I see that,” the man said, his eyes following Nate’s line of sight.
Annie held on to a martini glass filled with something pink, girly and wrong for her. Annie had too much bite to suck down something with a cherry bobbing in it. The blonde next to her was pleasantly pretty, but the dress she wore was a size too small and her tan a little too faux. She had dimples and blue eyes, and he’d talked to her for exactly fourteen minutes on Tuesday. Jane McEvoy. Tawny’s former roommate and current best friend.
“Ladies,” he murmured, lightly touching Annie on her elbow. She started and the pink bubbly martini sloshed onto the bar.
“Ah, Detective,” Jane purred, lifting her own fruity cocktail in toast. “You don’t seem the type to frequent places such as this.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t seem the type who’d enjoy zydeco and a beer?”
Jane’s mouth curved at the corners. “Of course, but it seems too bourgeois for you.”
“I like bourgeois. I take a pass on the finer things in life. They’re always more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Too bad,” Jane purred, running one finger down his forearm. He met the invitation in her eyes with a blank stare then turned toward Annie.
“Night off?”
Her eyes shuttered. “Yeah. Well-deserved night off.”
“Didn’t know you two were chums.”
Jane’s hand moved in a caress. “We’re not, but we’re getting to know one another. Always room for one more. Pull up a stool.”
He needed to canvas the bar. He’d seen a few familiar faces from the brief interviews he and Wynn had conducted, but there was no way he could step away from Annie. Not when he’d seen the high heels she wore…and the way they made her legs look.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
He grabbed a stool from a table holding an extra one and slid beside Annie. Jane’s eyes flashed momentary irritation but she recovered.
“What are you drinking?” Jane asked, jerking her head toward the female bartender. “I’ll buy the first round.”
“Abita Amber.” Hell, might as well let her buy him a beer. She’d push until he rolled over one way or another. She had that bulldogged look about her. Sweet-looking on the outside, controlling on the inside. But that was a guess.
Jane beckoned the woman over. Nate caught Annie’s gaze and tried to discern her mood. She didn’t seem comfortable, but neither did she seem ill-at-ease. Frankly, he was surprised she’d spend her off night at a bar. If someone had made him guess, he’d say she was the type to head to the gym on her off nights or maybe catch a classic movie—if they had a movie theater in Bayou Bridge.
“Is this band any good?” Annie asked, fiddling with the chain of the handbag hanging off her shoulder. Seeing the feminine accessory only heightened his awareness of Annie as a woman. Again, heat flared in his nether regions.
“Pretty good. I’ve known ol’ Dave since he starting taking violin lessons in town. He’s good ’cause he loves the music. You ever hear zydeco?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
Jane passed him a beer as Dave and the Murky Water Boys launched into a cover of a Buckwheat Zydeco song, “Boogaloo, Ma ’Tite Fille.” Nothing left to do but tap his feet at the sounds of the accordion, fiddle and guitars. The dance floor came to life with couples whirling, stomping feet and clapping hands. Even though he dreaded the club scene, people knew how to pass a good time in Louisiana…and it was infectious.
“Teach me to dance,” Jane shouted over the music, and because his mama had raised him to be a gentleman, he held out his hand. He felt Annie’s eyes on the hands clasped in front of her. He met her gaze.
“You’re next,” he called as he followed the blonde actress to the writhing dance floor.
Jane caught on fast as he led her in a two-step around the dance floor Gerry Boudreaux had redone to look like the old cypress one in Mulates. At every turn he saw a smiling face and he let Jane pull him closer. Though she was perfectly pretty, he felt nothing as her breasts brushed the front of his polo shirt. He spun her, complicating the dance, but she followed him step for step.
The song ended and the bar erupted in applause. Dave grinned and launched into another up-tempo song. Jane tugged his elbow. “Let’s do another.”
He shook his head and looked over at the bar for Annie. She wasn’t where he’d left her. Maybe someone had coaxed her onto the dance floor. He spun Jane around and glanced at the couples moving around them.
Jane looped her arms around his neck. “Come on, cowboy. Take me for another spin.”
He looked down at the actress. Her green eyes were glazed, indicating she’d not been on her first martini when he’d arrived.
More like her third. This was a woman ready for some real fun, and if he’d been into her, that tight dress would hit the floor easily later on. But she wasn’t the woman he wanted to get naked with.
You shouldn’t be wantin’ to get naked with any woman right now. You have a job to do.
He jerked his head toward the bar. “Let’s go back.”
“Party pooper.” She laughed, linking her arm through his. The crowd had gotten rowdy and he still didn’t see Annie. Not that he had to keep tabs on her. He merely wanted to, even though he was supposed to be keeping his eyes and ears on the people from the Magic Man production.
“Where did Annie go?” he asked when they reached the bar. No one had nabbed their stools and their half-finished drinks remained.
“I don’t know,” Jane said, downing the rest of the martini and snapping her fingers at the bartender. “Why should I care? She’s a big girl.”
He scanned the crowd, his gaze lighting on Mick Manners, the dashing ne’er-do-well from the Magic Man production. He sat at a table with four women, one of which was Annie.
“Be right back,” he said to Jane.
He slipped through the crowd, heading for the table. Annie hadn’t seen him and she looked engrossed in whatever Mick was saying. The other women talked to each other, but Mick’s arm rested casually around Annie’s shoulders as he murmured into her ear. The nanny’s head bobbed in agreement as he told her something obviously fascinating.
Nate felt like someone had sucker punched him.
His fist tightened even as he reminded himself he had no claim on her. The brief thought of getting more time to grill Mick clicked in his brain, along with questions about why Annie was hanging out with Jane McEvory, but none of them superseded the jealousy that bit down on him and gave him a good, hard shake.
“So here’s where you went,” Nate shouted over the lively music. “Always finding you with a new man.”
Aggravation flashed in Mick’s eyes, but he caught a glimpse of relief in Annie’s eyes before she shuttered them. “You stalking me, Detective?”
“Nope. You promised me the next dance, remember?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the bar stool. She opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her time to protest. Instead, he led her to the dance floor, ignoring her yelp. He could feel her struggle with keeping her balance in the high heels and felt the chain of her purse hit his wrist, but he refused to let her get away.
Instead of pulling her into his arms when he reached the designated dancing area, he skirted the couples flying around in rhythm with the music and slipped out the door to the smokers’ patio. Several throngs of smokers clumped together, huffing, puffing and drawing on beers, so he pushed through an iron gate on the path to the darkened pool area. He pushed through a second gate, stopped and dropped her hand. She tripped on the uneven concrete, but regained her footing before he could reach out to her. She jerked her arm away and tugged the chain of her purse higher on her shoulder. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Good question.
He stared at her as she glared at him. “Getting you away from STD boy in there. Do you know how much he sleeps around?
He’s not your kind of guy, Annie.”
As soon as he uttered the words, he knew he sounded like a dumbass.
Annie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Who made you my daddy?”
“No one, but if he were here, he’d probably thank me for rescuing you.”
She snorted, pushing a hand through her hair. The motion was innately feminine as was the whole look she had going on. Her legs looked longer in the heeled sandals, and the skirt flared nicely over her toned thighs while the clingy shirt hugged small breasts he could no longer ogle since her arms were crossed. “Don’t count on it. Besides, you’re a detective, not the morality police.”
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t explain what he’d done. Well, not to her. How could he explain away the jealousy that had ripped through him at the sight of her with Mick Manners?
“Nate, I’m a big girl. I know you’re this Southern gentleman with protective instincts, but if I want to wrap my ankles around Mick, I will.”
“Wrap your ankles around… You want to sleep with him?”
“I didn’t say that. We were talking. He bought me a drink, not a hotel room.”
She shook her head in disgust, but her eyes were limpid and there was a hint of pleasure around her glossy lips. The moon’s reflection glittered in the water of the pool and somewhere in the stand of trees and palmettos that flanked the back patio of the hotel, a bird called out. And Nate felt his heart make a funny skip, something that had never happened. Something that scared the devil out of him.
He ripped his gaze away from her. “Fine. I’m sorry I messed up your little tête-à-tête. Go on back.”