The Dollmaker by Amanda Stevens Page B

He took a lot of care with his appearance, and Charlotte appreciated the effort.
    Absently, he massaged her shoulder. “Man, would you look at that traffic? Seeing all those cars out there, it’s hard to believe what a ghost town this place was after the flood. Of course, eighty percent of the city was underwater. Nothing going in and out but gators and moccasins.”
    Charlotte glanced up at his profile. She felt a pull of desire every time she looked at him, so she hastily averted her gaze. This morning she wouldn’t have the excuse of fear and loneliness driving her toward irresponsibility. This morning she wouldn’t be able to blame anything but her own selfish needs.
    “You rode out the storm here in town, didn’t you? I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”
    Alex squinted against the glare of sunlight that spilled through the window. “It was bad. Worst damn thing I’ve ever been through, but half of what you heard on the news was bullshit. Like the reports about cops leaving the city in droves. Never happened.”
    “The first thing I learned when I went to work in the D.A.’s office was never to trust the media,” Charlotte said with a shrug. “But they got one thing right. New Orleans is never going to be the same.”
    “No, probably not. But I’ve never seen much point in looking back. You can’t change the past. All you can do is play the hand you got dealt and move on.”
    “Sometimes it’s not that easy, Alex.”
    “And sometimes it is,” he insisted. “It’s all a matter of persective. Take this window, for instance. If you’re the glass half-empty type, you’d look out and see nothing but the memory of flooded streets and piles of garbage. But me? I prefer to be a little more optimistic. I look out that window and see opportunity.”
    “Now you sound just like a politician,” Charlotte teased. “You can’t expect people to forget so soon. New Orleans has always been a city that lives in the past. It’s who we are.”
    “And maybe that’s been our problem all along. Like I said, I don’t see much profit in looking back. I don’t believe in regrets.” His voice softened as he turned and traced a finger down her jawline. “That goes for what happened last night, too. I’m not sorry and I don’t want you to be, either.”
    She kept her gaze trained on the window, as if the sunshine flooding through the glass could burn away her desire for him as easily as it melted the early morning mist over the river. “I can’t help it. I shouldn’t have come here, Alex.”
    “Then why did you?”
    “Because I could tell that you were hurt and upset when you left the hospital last night. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
    “One thing you gotta know about me. I’m not a man who takes well to charity. I don’t need your pity. That’s the last thing I want from you.”
    “I don’t pity you, but I do understand what you’re going through. Last night you were hurt and vulnerable, and I was lonely. We let things get out of hand. It never should have happened.”
    “Is that really the way you feel?” His eyes moved over her face. “If you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine. If the earth didn’t move or we didn’t click, or you can’t stand the way I hog all the covers in the middle of the night, then tell me straight up. I can handle the truth. But don’t give me any bullshit about guilt and regrets. We didn’t hurt anybody.”
    “What about Claire?”
    “Claire doesn’t give a damn what I do.”
    “Are you going to tell her?”
    The question obviously hit a nerve that was still raw and exposed. Alex winced as he turned back to the window. “No, I’m not going to tell her. Are you?”
    Charlotte clutched the sheet to her breasts, the lingering passion she’d felt earlier dissolving now in the tawdry light of the morning after. “I don’t want her to know. I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt because of something we did in a weak