straighter and looked at him, then away.
“You had kind of a rough morning,” he murmured.
“So did you.”
“I’m used to being hassled by the local police departments.”
“Why?”
“It’s not just Cumberland. Some cops resent private detectives dabbling in their cases.”
“You’re not dabbling.”
“If not, from his point of view, then I’m interfering.” When she started to speak, he rushed ahead. “You don’t have to keep defending me. I’m putting it in his terms.”
She kept her eyes on him, and he couldn’t pull his own gaze away from her.
Eight years ago, she’d hurt him badly, and it had taken a long time to get over it. Maybe he never had, since he hadn’t married. But seeing her again had brought back more of the good feelings than the bad ones. For a long time after she’d broken off with him, he’d told himself that rich Miss Beaumont had only been playing with the son of the handyman. And as soon as he’d gone away, she’d forgotten all about him.
He’d resented her for that. But the resentment had evaporated long ago. Looking back, he’d been enchanted with her, but he hadn’t understood her. Or maybe back then she’d been waiting to find out who she really was. Now he could see what she’d become. She wasn’t trading on her family name to get ahead in the restaurant business. And she was working damn hard to make it. She’d even thought of a creative way to bring more people to her restaurant—although that hadn’t worked out so well.
Coming back to New Orleans and seeing her had generated powerful emotions. He wanted very badly to kiss her again. Which he knew was a stupid move. But just to prove he could do it without going up in smoke, he bent and brushed his lips to hers.
It was like tossing a match into dry tinder. Heat flared, burning through his resolve.
Or perhaps it was her response that caught and held him. She didn’t resist or pull away. She leaned in, making it clear that she’d been thinking there was unfinished business between them.
Was she trying to test her own reaction to him. He didn’t want to examine her motives. He just wanted to be with her in the moment.
He gathered her to him, deepening the kiss, angling his head to drink in everything he could from this woman he had wanted for what seemed like centuries.
She moved closer, her arms creeping around his neck as she kissed him with the same intensity. He’d told himself the car was a safe place to kiss her. Not like her apartment where they had too much privacy. Now he couldn’t stop an image of pulling her into his lap so that he could make love with her.
He fought a war with himself, then finally lifted his head, staring into her eyes as they both struggled to drag in full breaths.
“Come inside.”
His body and his emotions urged him to say yes. Instead he managed to say, “No.”
Chapter Nine
Calista wanted to turn the “Open” sign at her front door to “Closed,” but she resisted the urge. Better not to do anything out of pattern. Or let the cops see how shaken she was by what had happened last night at the ceremony.
And she hated being a murder suspect. Too bad she wasn’t white and powerful—with the clout to get that damn police detective off her back—or Rafe Gascon, for that matter. He was much too perceptive.
It flitted through her mind to make a couple of voodoo dolls with their names on them and poke pins in their vital organs. It might work or it might not. But probably murdering the lead detective on the case and the man Eugenia had hired to protect her wasn’t the way to go. Could she find something on either one of them? Something she could use?
She went into the back room and sat down in the big overstuffed chair where she could relax when there were no customers out front. With her eyes closed, she thought about the two men. She’d bet Cumberland had something he wanted to keep hidden. Most people did. But Gascon was another matter. He gave her
“You had kind of a rough morning,” he murmured.
“So did you.”
“I’m used to being hassled by the local police departments.”
“Why?”
“It’s not just Cumberland. Some cops resent private detectives dabbling in their cases.”
“You’re not dabbling.”
“If not, from his point of view, then I’m interfering.” When she started to speak, he rushed ahead. “You don’t have to keep defending me. I’m putting it in his terms.”
She kept her eyes on him, and he couldn’t pull his own gaze away from her.
Eight years ago, she’d hurt him badly, and it had taken a long time to get over it. Maybe he never had, since he hadn’t married. But seeing her again had brought back more of the good feelings than the bad ones. For a long time after she’d broken off with him, he’d told himself that rich Miss Beaumont had only been playing with the son of the handyman. And as soon as he’d gone away, she’d forgotten all about him.
He’d resented her for that. But the resentment had evaporated long ago. Looking back, he’d been enchanted with her, but he hadn’t understood her. Or maybe back then she’d been waiting to find out who she really was. Now he could see what she’d become. She wasn’t trading on her family name to get ahead in the restaurant business. And she was working damn hard to make it. She’d even thought of a creative way to bring more people to her restaurant—although that hadn’t worked out so well.
Coming back to New Orleans and seeing her had generated powerful emotions. He wanted very badly to kiss her again. Which he knew was a stupid move. But just to prove he could do it without going up in smoke, he bent and brushed his lips to hers.
It was like tossing a match into dry tinder. Heat flared, burning through his resolve.
Or perhaps it was her response that caught and held him. She didn’t resist or pull away. She leaned in, making it clear that she’d been thinking there was unfinished business between them.
Was she trying to test her own reaction to him. He didn’t want to examine her motives. He just wanted to be with her in the moment.
He gathered her to him, deepening the kiss, angling his head to drink in everything he could from this woman he had wanted for what seemed like centuries.
She moved closer, her arms creeping around his neck as she kissed him with the same intensity. He’d told himself the car was a safe place to kiss her. Not like her apartment where they had too much privacy. Now he couldn’t stop an image of pulling her into his lap so that he could make love with her.
He fought a war with himself, then finally lifted his head, staring into her eyes as they both struggled to drag in full breaths.
“Come inside.”
His body and his emotions urged him to say yes. Instead he managed to say, “No.”
Chapter Nine
Calista wanted to turn the “Open” sign at her front door to “Closed,” but she resisted the urge. Better not to do anything out of pattern. Or let the cops see how shaken she was by what had happened last night at the ceremony.
And she hated being a murder suspect. Too bad she wasn’t white and powerful—with the clout to get that damn police detective off her back—or Rafe Gascon, for that matter. He was much too perceptive.
It flitted through her mind to make a couple of voodoo dolls with their names on them and poke pins in their vital organs. It might work or it might not. But probably murdering the lead detective on the case and the man Eugenia had hired to protect her wasn’t the way to go. Could she find something on either one of them? Something she could use?
She went into the back room and sat down in the big overstuffed chair where she could relax when there were no customers out front. With her eyes closed, she thought about the two men. She’d bet Cumberland had something he wanted to keep hidden. Most people did. But Gascon was another matter. He gave her
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