by Caro LaFever
“What gift though?” Heni looked around their shop, her face filled with determination.
Nina looked too.
There were the long strings of glass beads, purple and gold and red. But he hadn’t appeared too excited about the one she’d placed in his bedroom. There were the silver rings and bracelets in the jewelry cabinet and the voodoo dolls. He’d likely snort at those. “Candles? Oils? A T-shirt?”
“How about one of Yuet Gee’s fans?” Jeanie went over to their Chinese section and began to inspect the wares.
Mrs. Gee was one of their many suppliers. Her painted bamboo fans, paper lanterns, and gold charms were some of their more popular gifts. Except Nina couldn’t imagine the saleau having any interest in a fan, and from his reaction to the bottle tree, he wouldn’t be happy if she hung several lanterns in his garden. “I don’t think so.”
“I know.” Her sister didn’t seem deterred. “A charm.”
She held up one of Mrs. Gee’s more elaborate creations. Two golden gourds were strung together with black silk. A small gold bell dangled on the end. “You did say he was your hero, Boo.”
Lilith perked up, her spine straightening.
Heni chuckled, a grinding kind of sound.
The gourds were carved with symbols. One for an eagle and one for a bear. Combined, Mrs. Gee had explained, they sounded the same as the Chinese word for hero—yingxiong.
“He’s not my hero.”
“But you did say he was your knight in black leather,” Jeanie countered.
“Knight in black leather.” Her other sister snorted. “When did you decide that?”
“He is a prince as well as a knight,” Lil’s drawling voice seemed to fill the shop.
Along with Fate.
Which was something Nina didn’t want anymore, if she ever really did. “I’m going to find an apartment today.”
“Boo—”
“With what money?”
She ignored her sisters. “Then, I’m going to move out of his house.”
“I have told you this is not what you should do.” The old woman narrowed her eyes at Nina’s incipient rebellion. “You are going to cause problems for yourself and for him.”
“And finally, I’m going to make him listen to me.”
“He’ll have to listen to you if you’re living with him.” Jeanie pushed her blond hair behind her ears, her expression a mix of concern and hope. “You have to admit, it’s the perfect situation.”
It was exactly opposite. A perfectly horrid situation. For her pride, for her self-respect, for her ego. She was not going to disrupt his life and become beholden to him.
“No, no, no.” She shook her head with a decisive jerk. “I’m not—”
“Calme, enfant.” Lil rose and glided to Jeanie’s side. With a careful touch, she took the Chinese charm into her hands.
Nina gave her a gusty sigh. “It won’t work.”
“If a gift is the correct one,” the old woman responded, her gaze never leaving the gold and black ornament, “then it always works.”
“What is he going to do with that?” she whined, just imagining his sneer or his scowl. “He’ll laugh me out of his house.”
“No, ma fille.” Lilith nodded before stretching her hand out, holding the charm as if it were a talisman. “He’ll laugh you in.”
Much to his relief, his mami had not appeared at his restaurant this evening.
Which was about the only thing that had gone well during the entire night.
Luc let himself through his iron gate, clanging it behind him, before walking across the quiet terrace towards the rear of the house. To his further relief, the lights in his house were out, telling him he wouldn’t have to deal with another woman for the next few hours, as well.
Another thing to be thankful for.
Easing the kitchen door open, he stepped into the moonlit room. A stack of dishes lay in the sink and he grumbled in disgruntlement. He kept his place clean: his clothes hung up in a line in his walk-in closet, dishes washed right after being used, things put away when he’d finished with them.
Miss Nina was clearly not like him.
An understatement.
He tilted his head and listened. No patter of bare feet. No cheerful hello. The woman apparently slept.
A slither of something close to disappointment he’d rather not define ran through him. Trying to ignore his brain’s identification of the sentiment, he paced to the sink and began to wash her dishes. She’d been to Verti Marte again. The remnants of the store’s signature muffuletta drooped on a plate. As a chef, Luc could spot the mark of a fellow cook or restaurant in the way a simple sandwich was put together, or the way a tingle of spice ladened the air above the food.
A rumble of hunger rolled through his stomach and he grunted.
What with his staff’s gossip and the constant fear his mami would appear, he hadn’t thought about grabbing something to eat as he usually did.
“Hey.” Her soft voice reached across from the kitchen’s arch to grab him by the throat. “You don’t have to clean up after me.”
Turning, he glared when he saw what she wore. Or didn’t wear, to be exact. “Go back to bed.”
She ignored him and wafted into the room to sit on one of the two stools encircling the high granite counter. The action provided him with more than an eyeful of woman. Unlike the previous night where she’d been semi-covered in a plain cotton shirt and shorts, tonight she wore nothing but a short-sleeved T-shirt that barely hung to her thighs.
Did she wear panties under that?
His mind buzzed with fantasies. His cock reared to complete attention.
“Orders and orders and more orders.” Her lips softened into a tender smile. “Don’t you ever get tired of ordering people about?”
He’d been tired for five years. Tired of barking at his staff because he didn’t want them to get too close. Tired of gnawing at the prick of pain in his heart he’d never been able to pull out and discard. Yes, he was tired. “Go to bed.”
Sighing, she plunked her chin down on her folded hands. “You had a hard night at the restaurant?”
“No, I didn’t.” He turned back to the sink, trying to ignore the tug of desire bleeding into his bloodstream. “Everything went well.”
“That’s good,” she said in her slow drawl. “We had a good day, too.”
The mention of her shop made him think of today’s earlier meeting about her festival. His hands clamped around her plate, the water swishing on the china doing nothing to cool his immediate temper. “I did have a few bad moments at the beginning of the shift.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” He jammed the plate into the drainer and turned to glare at her once more. “My entire staff, except for Lali, was late.”
Her eyes widened with instant understanding. “We let Lali stay behind to help so you wouldn’t get upset.”
“Let?” His temper bubbled to life. “What the hell does that mean?”
She had the grace to look abashed. The expression was so purely her in its blend of woman and child, his heart twisted. “Mais, we don’t like upsetting you. Not me or your staff.”
“Then why is it that you always do?” Before he walked over and pulled her into his arms, Luc went back to washing the dishes. She’d cooked some kind of soup, there was a pan and a bowl, both with the remnants of corn and crab clinging to the bottom.
A tense silence fell behind him.
“As I said, you don’t have to take care of me or my dishes.” Her voice no longer carried any of her slow drawl. It was clipped and hard.
He ignored her, because he didn’t know what to say. Should he scold her for abandoning the dishes in the sink in the first place? Or should he ask forgiveness for his blunt, ugly words like his mami had taught him? Or maybe he should just be quiet and she’d slink off to bed, leaving him in relative peace.
His stomach growled again.
“Oh,” she piped in from behind him, her tone
growing concerned. “You’re hungry.”
Yes, yelled his still-erect cock. Come here and take care of me.
He grunted at her. And his cock. “I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” The murmur was filled with female disbelief. “Too bad. I got you a sandwich.”
“I don’t need you—”
“Don’t be stupid.”
The sound of her slipping off the chair told him she wasn’t paying a spot of attention to him and his objections. From the corner of his eye, he saw her float toward the fridge. When she opened it, the light flooded across her body, silhouetting her figure.
If it were possible, his cock turned harder.
Again, he noted she wasn’t lush like Genia. Her hips were slight and her legs long. She turned, and the light drew his attention to her breasts. They weren’t all that impressive, either.
His cock twitched in disagreement.
“See?” In the dim light, he caught her grin and his focus finally fell on what she held in her hands.
A plate, just like the one he’d recently washed. With his favorite catfish sandwich on French bread, dressed with lettuce, tomato, and mayo. He frowned. “How did you know?”
“Know what you like?” She grinned before slamming the fridge door with her hip. “Lali told me.”
The thought of the two women huddling together, discussing his likes and dislikes, turned his frown to a scowl. “I suppose it’s too late to tell you my likes and dislikes are none of your business.”
“Maybe none of my business, but I wanted to make you happy.”
Happy. Jesucristo. The word didn’t enter his existence any longer. Flipping off the water, he wiped his hands on a dishtowel. His stomach growled again.
She laughed, her husky, sexy enjoyment encircling him with enchantment. “Saleau, saleau. You know you want to eat this sandwich.”
“I know what that word means now.” The dishtowel went where it was supposed to be, on the hook by the sink, not on the counter where he’d found it. “I looked it up.”
Much to his disgruntled amazement, he’d used a couple of free moments to Google the nickname. What he’d discovered hurt more than it should. He didn’t understand why her throwaway nickname for him affected him so much. The hurt mixed with inevitable anger at her.
With careful precision, she placed his plate on the granite counter. The movement was so different than her usual languid ways, it caught his attention. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Hurt his feelings? How the hell did she know that? “You didn’t.”
“I did.” The words were simple and sincere. As if she had no doubts. She glanced his way, her smoky eyes cloudy. “I’m sorry. But when I met you I didn’t like you, so I became childish and called you a name.”
She didn’t like him. That was perfectly fine. Luc ignored the twist in his gut. “Stick with that emotion.”
“Not liking you?” Her head tilted, the ponytail bopping to one side. Tufts of brown hair slipped from the tie, feathering along her neck and shoulders. “Sorry, it’s too late. I’ve grown to like you quite a lot.”
The twist unraveled, much to his disgust. No words came to his mind. He glared at her.
A wry smile crossed her face. “No need to say anything back. I can wait.”
Wait for what? She confused him to the point of bewilderment.
“Why not come and eat? It’s your favorite.” She waved at the food and then at him.
“I’ll eat if you go to bed.”
Another laugh tumbled from her mouth and the smile turned to a grin. “Are you afraid of me?”
Yes, he was. He hated to admit the sentiment, it ground into his male pride, but it was the truth. For the first time in years, a woman had captured his attention and hung on. It didn’t seem to matter that she was a baby and flighty and owned a crappy fetid shop that ruined his street. His cock and brain didn’t care. They were enchanted.
Mierda.
To prove to her and to the stupid truth strumming in his veins, he stomped to the counter and sat on the stool.
“Do you want me to warm the sandwich?” Her words were laced with amusement.
“No.” He stared at the food. “Why do you think I’m sloppy? Dirty?”
She stilled.
Waving at the sink, he scowled. “I’m neither. I keep things clean here and at the restaurant.”
“I wasn’t talking about your things and places.” That signature low sound came from deep in her throat, like she was disappointed in him. “I was talking about you.”
“Me?” Astonishment shot through him. “I shower.”
“But you don’t care about yourself.” She came right at him again, right into his personal space. Her hand lifted to drift through his hair and her warm body, covered only in cotton, pressed along his arm and side. “You should, Luc. You are a good man.”
His body heat boiled. Burned in him like a fierce fever. The touch of her, the feel of her, quenched any thoughts of food or nicknames or fetid shops ruining his street. All he could comprehend in the moment was her.
Her sweet, plummy scent.
Her fingers playing with his hair.
Her.
“I got you something.” Before he could grab her, she danced away, heading for the back door. Slipping a box out of her sweater hanging on the knob he normally hung his coat on, she turned and smiled. A gallant grin that held a hint of cunning.
His spine stiffened in instant distrust. The lust still surged through his blood, yet he knew how that went. Genia had often gotten him hot, and then used that same kind of smile to get what she wanted.
He might have wanted to forget everything from the past, but he’d learned it was impossible.
The grin withered off her face. “Don’t look like that. It’s a gift. Really.”
“It’s a gift so you can wheedle something from me.” Blunt and hard, his words cut through the room like a knife.
Her brows rose and reluctant admiration filled her expression. “Smart man.”
Shock rattled inside at her admission. No woman he knew would so cheerfully admit to wheedling. Genia would have flipped her hair over her shoulder and given him a glare. Mami would confess to nothing. The females on his staff would shuffle away to try and find another way around him.
This woman. This woman.
She danced back to his side, the small box with its absurd green bow bouncing in her hand. “I admit, I’m hoping we can talk about my festival.”
“Yours.” He managed a snort.
A husky chuckle came from her, and the woman compounded the danger by leaning on him again. Didn’t she know how close she was to getting snatched? Didn’t she understand how far down the road to utter disaster they both were?
She’s a baby, asshole.
Don’t grab.
“This is a true gift, though. No strings.” The smile she gave him now was filled with complete innocence and sincerity.
If he hadn’t been scarred by his history, he would have fallen for her and that smile in a second. Too bad for her, the history stood like a pillar of pain and warning inside him. “I don’t want your gift.”
“But I picked it out for—”
“I don’t want it.”
“Mais, actually Lilith picked it out for you.”
“Lilith?” Another shock rumbled through him.
Her head cocked. “Lilith Beaugard. Do you know her?”
Everyone seemed to know Lilith Beaugard. The old woman had lurked and lingered around his street for as long as he could remember. She’d been one of his first customers when he’d opened his food van. She’d been at the opening of his restaurant. She was odd and strange, with her head wraps and long dresses. But he’d learned to appreciate her wisdom and support. “You know Lilith?”
“She works in my shop.” The claim was filled with pride.
If he had another shock tonight, he’d end up in a coma. “What the hell?”
“Didn’t you know?” Her brow
s furrowed, like she found it impossible to believe he didn’t know everything that happened on his street.
Which was usually the case.
The realization he’d missed this important fact, burned his pride. “What does she do?”
“You don’t know that, either?” His tormenter leaned closer and chuckled into his hot ear. “Lilith does palm readings. And aura readings, too.”
Lilith Beaugard had struck him as odd, but not crazy. Not as crazy as this woman. “Mierda.”
Miss Nina shifted, her small breast butting into his arm with another bolt of shock. “She’s good. I don’t know if I believe in everything she does, still, she has tons of customers.”
How had he missed this? Why hadn’t Lali told him or one of his other staff members? They must know about Lilith’s practices and her defection to the fetid shop. He felt as if he’d been betrayed once more. The thought brought his anger back to the fore. “All of it is crap.”
She backed off, the breast’s press lifting and her expression turning flat. “Along with my crappy shop, right?”
“Right,” he snarled.
With a jerk, she pulled away completely, the gift clenched in her hand. “You’re being mean again, saleau.”
“That’s because I am mean.” Pushing the plate with his unwanted sandwich away, he stood.
Though he towered over her, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she stuck out her hand. “Here.”
“I don’t want your offerings.” He took a step away from her. “Not the sandwich. Not the gift.”
Not you.
The last unspoken claim whispered around them, like silent fingers of fate.
Luc swung around her, making for the safety of his bedroom. “Go to bed.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his elbow, just as he’d grabbed hers last night when she’d been agitated.
Didn’t she realize his agitation was of a far different kind? His wasn’t about finding an apartment or coping with a failing business. His was all about powerful lust and overwhelming anger and a crushing fear he’d banished from his life five years ago.
Didn’t she realize what she was doing? What she was risking?
Chapter 14
