little Bywater house.
If Josie Lee noticed his silence, she didn’t let on. She chatted easily during the drive, entertaining him with humorous anecdotes on the doings in her sisters’ lives and those of mutual acquaintances. Rummaging through her purse, she retrieved her keys just as they pulled up in front of the house. She turned in her seat and flashed him her killer smile.
“Thanks, Luke, you’re the best.” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the mouth, then smiled as she settled back in her seat and reached out to whisk a dab of lipstick from his lower lip with her thumb. “You wanna come in? I’m going to throw together some dinner and there’s plenty if you’d care to join me. I’d love to give you a proper thank-you for the ride.”
His lip burned where she’d kissed him, and into his mind flashed a vision of the empty house and several ways in which she could thank him, none of which were particularly proper. He jerked back in his seat. “No…uh, thanks anyway, but that’s not necessary. I was glad to help.” Christ Almighty. This was Josie Lee he was thinking about—what the hell was the matter with him? If she knew the thoughts he entertained, even if only for a moment, she’d run screaming for her brother so fast it’d make his head spin.
“Y’sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you around.” She opened the door and climbed out, turning to lean back inside to give him a final smile. A black curl tumbled over one eye and she flipped it back with a long, narrow finger. “Thanks again, Luke.”
He watched until she disappeared inside the door, then heaved a sigh of relief and peeled away from the curb.
Inside the house, Josie Lee dropped her purse, turned on the overhead fans, and headed for her bedroom. She smiled to herself as she kicked off her shoes and changed out of her work clothes.
That went pretty well , she thought. Better than she’d expected, actually. As a reward, she’d pour herself a drink of something nice and cool to ease her parched throat, and then she’d better call a cab.
She had to replace the rotor in Anabel’s car and get it back to her sister before Beau got home.
Juliet stalked through Lola’s club in front of Beau, but she was painfully aware that he never allowed her to get too far ahead of him, and a temper she hadn’t even known she possessed burned a little bit hotter. He seemed happy enough to trail in her wake until they hit the street, but then he was suddenly right behind her, his lean, hard fingers reaching around to clamp authoritatively around her forearm.
Feeling a combativeness that was worlds removed from her normal behavior, she tried to yank free. He not only held firm, he shifted so she was practically glued to his side, tucked under his arm. “Settle down,” he growled. She turned a cool stare up at him and he jerked his shadowed chin at the foot traffic congesting the narrow sidewalks. “Take a good look around, Rosebud. This ain’t the debutante ball—you don’t wanna go flouncing off on your own.”
“I beg your pardon,” she replied coolly. “Astor Lowells do not flounce.” She nevertheless looked around, as he’d suggested, and subsided, for the first time feeling out of place in the Quarter.
It had a different, more dangerous tone at night. The streets were inundated by noise—from the ever-present music, to the street performers playing for change on every corner, to the constantly shifting sounds that blasted out from one doorway to the next as she and Beau navigated the sidewalks. Men’s voices hawked the pleasures to be found inside various establishments, and all around them Go-cups sloshed and raucous laughter rose and fell, bouncing off the brick walls in much the same manner as the drunks that staggered from bar to club.
The French Quarter seemed to provide for adults what Spring Break in Florida provided for college students—a wide-open party atmosphere that allowed them to
If Josie Lee noticed his silence, she didn’t let on. She chatted easily during the drive, entertaining him with humorous anecdotes on the doings in her sisters’ lives and those of mutual acquaintances. Rummaging through her purse, she retrieved her keys just as they pulled up in front of the house. She turned in her seat and flashed him her killer smile.
“Thanks, Luke, you’re the best.” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the mouth, then smiled as she settled back in her seat and reached out to whisk a dab of lipstick from his lower lip with her thumb. “You wanna come in? I’m going to throw together some dinner and there’s plenty if you’d care to join me. I’d love to give you a proper thank-you for the ride.”
His lip burned where she’d kissed him, and into his mind flashed a vision of the empty house and several ways in which she could thank him, none of which were particularly proper. He jerked back in his seat. “No…uh, thanks anyway, but that’s not necessary. I was glad to help.” Christ Almighty. This was Josie Lee he was thinking about—what the hell was the matter with him? If she knew the thoughts he entertained, even if only for a moment, she’d run screaming for her brother so fast it’d make his head spin.
“Y’sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you around.” She opened the door and climbed out, turning to lean back inside to give him a final smile. A black curl tumbled over one eye and she flipped it back with a long, narrow finger. “Thanks again, Luke.”
He watched until she disappeared inside the door, then heaved a sigh of relief and peeled away from the curb.
Inside the house, Josie Lee dropped her purse, turned on the overhead fans, and headed for her bedroom. She smiled to herself as she kicked off her shoes and changed out of her work clothes.
That went pretty well , she thought. Better than she’d expected, actually. As a reward, she’d pour herself a drink of something nice and cool to ease her parched throat, and then she’d better call a cab.
She had to replace the rotor in Anabel’s car and get it back to her sister before Beau got home.
Juliet stalked through Lola’s club in front of Beau, but she was painfully aware that he never allowed her to get too far ahead of him, and a temper she hadn’t even known she possessed burned a little bit hotter. He seemed happy enough to trail in her wake until they hit the street, but then he was suddenly right behind her, his lean, hard fingers reaching around to clamp authoritatively around her forearm.
Feeling a combativeness that was worlds removed from her normal behavior, she tried to yank free. He not only held firm, he shifted so she was practically glued to his side, tucked under his arm. “Settle down,” he growled. She turned a cool stare up at him and he jerked his shadowed chin at the foot traffic congesting the narrow sidewalks. “Take a good look around, Rosebud. This ain’t the debutante ball—you don’t wanna go flouncing off on your own.”
“I beg your pardon,” she replied coolly. “Astor Lowells do not flounce.” She nevertheless looked around, as he’d suggested, and subsided, for the first time feeling out of place in the Quarter.
It had a different, more dangerous tone at night. The streets were inundated by noise—from the ever-present music, to the street performers playing for change on every corner, to the constantly shifting sounds that blasted out from one doorway to the next as she and Beau navigated the sidewalks. Men’s voices hawked the pleasures to be found inside various establishments, and all around them Go-cups sloshed and raucous laughter rose and fell, bouncing off the brick walls in much the same manner as the drunks that staggered from bar to club.
The French Quarter seemed to provide for adults what Spring Break in Florida provided for college students—a wide-open party atmosphere that allowed them to
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