Going All Out

by Jeanie London

  Just the thought made him smile. He and Max had not only kept his parents and Nana LeClerc hopping, but all their neighbors, too. He remembered tear-assing through the piazza on their bikes after school, popping wheelies around the fountain and almost running down Old Man Guidry, who’d threatened to send his ghost after them.

  If Bree’s sister believed a ghost haunted Number One, then she might step in to replace her late uncle. Lucas hoped so. His future nieces and nephews would need a crazy neighbor to torment.

  Lucas had no clue what had him so reflective tonight, but by the time he got back inside and kicked off his shoes, he knew sleep was off the agenda. He was heading back to Pescadero at noon and had planned to get up early to pack and ship all the memorabilia he’d collected from the attic.

  But when he glanced around the living room filled with mementos his mother had saved to commemorate his youth, he found his enthusiasm to get back to his familiar work environs—which had been mounting steadily since sending Josie and Max off on their honeymoon—had vanished.

  Grabbing the phone, he sank onto the couch and dialed a number. His sister’s sleepy voice answered just before the cell phone rolled him over to voice mail. “Lucas. Everything okay?”

  “Fine. Just wanted to chat.”

  “Chat?” Josie demanded through her drowsiness. “What time is it?”

  “It’s after four here. It can’t be that late in your part of the world.”

  “Lucas—”

  “Get over it, sunshine. You buried me in that attic sorting through our lives. You owe me. And unless I miss my guess, you and Max aren’t doing much sleeping on this honeymoon anyway.”

  “Which is why these precious hours are crucial.”

  “Don’t want to hear about it. What I want to hear about is Bree Addison.”

  There was a beat of silence on the other end. “Bree? Did you get a chance to meet her?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m glad. She’s a sweetie, isn’t she?”

  Sweetie? He’d been left more with the impression of a seductress or siren. “Tell me about her.”

  Josie took off on a commentary that answered more questions than he’d have ever thought to ask.

  “I know Tally better, but Bree belongs to the krewe and I run into her all the time at the café,” Josie explained. “She pops in for coffee a lot.”

  Lucas cradled the phone against his shoulder and moved aside a stack of old school photos on the coffee table so he could prop up his feet.

  “Okay, so she likes coffee,” he said.

  “She and Tally are sharp. I like them a lot,” Josie continued. “I was really glad when Tally got a break finding the captain’s treasure. She’s putting the reward money to good use. I get the impression that neither of them has had an easy road. Not from anything they’ve said, mind you, but they have a younger brother. From what I gather, they’ve been taking care of him for a long time.”

  “What happened to their parents?”

  “Haven’t heard one word about their father, but it sounds like their mother’s been out of the equation for a while.”

  Lucas put these facts together with the provocative woman he’d met tonight. “Know if she’s been at Toujacques long?”

  “A few years, from what she’s told me. She works a second job, too, so her schedule is screwy. She doesn’t always make homeowners’ association and krewe meetings.”

  “So you roped Bree and her sister into painting floats?”

  “Lucas! You know very well that we do more than paint floats. And if you don’t know then I’m not doing a very good job keeping you up on what’s happening around here. Maybe you should try coming home to visit more often.”

  Lucas smiled. While living inside the court wasn’t co-requisite with belonging to the organization whose sole purpose was carrying on the legend of Captain Dampier at Mardi Gras, he knew that with Josie at the helm, court residents wouldn’t stand much chance of avoiding membership.

  To her credit, though, Josie had done a lot to further the krewe’s involvement in the community. Under her administration, they paraded year-round for charitable causes such as the Big Buddies society and women’s shelters.

  “I’ll think about coming home more often if you tell me if Bree’s dating anyone.”

  Silence on the other end…then Josie said, “Interested?”

  “Just met the lady tonight, sunshine.”

  “And yet you woke me up to chat about her. Hmm, what should I make of that? Wait—What?” She directed her question away from the phone, presumably to her new husband.

  Sure enough, Max’s muffled voice carried through the receiver, and Josie gave a laugh. “Max said you better run while you still can. He came home to visit and wound up standing in line for a new driver’s license.”

  “Tell him not to worry. I wouldn’t move back because I’d have to see his ugly face every day. But you know what? I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you another wedding gift.”

  “Ooooh, really?”

  “Really. Tell me when and where, and I’ll pinch-hit for you with the krewe. I’ve decided to stay in town a while longer.”

  “Lucas!” Josie squealed through the phone, causing him to yank the receiver away from his ear. “Thank you! I’ve been worried about how shorthanded they’d be with me gone. I’m so glad you changed your mind—” She stopped. “What made you change your mind? Meeting Bree?”

  He could still hear that sultry voice in his memory. What a man wants…

  This man wanted to know Bree Addison better.

  “Actually I just didn’t feel like packing the memorabilia. It’s going back up in the attic.”

  3

  BREE MOVED QUIETLY around her house, more out of habit than necessity. With walls separating her from Tally and Christien, she didn’t have to worry about her odd hours at Toujacques disturbing anyone anymore.

  She told herself she was glad. All things considered, life hadn’t changed too, too much with her sister’s engagement. The renovation had been a piece of cake as far as renovations went. The town house had been a split plan to begin with, so a few cleverly placed walls, a new kitchen and doorway had done the trick. She’d been pleased with the effect…until now. Tonight her place felt too dark, too quiet.

  Or maybe that was her mood talking.

  Pausing in her workroom, Bree stripped off her damaged dress and tossed it on top of her sewing machine. Here’s hoping she could pull this dress back together or else all the money she’d spent on it just went down the drain.

  Thank you, Jude Robicheaux.

  Fortunately she was a capable seamstress. Working with high rollers meant dressing the part, and since she’d always been too broke to do anything but buy off the rack, she’d honed her altering abilities to a fine edge. She liked sewing and designing her own clothes, too, when she got the chance. In fact, she liked it so much that she’d turned her unexpected skill into a side job that earned her good money.

  Still, the split seams had snagged the fabric and broken more than a few strings of sequins. This dress might be too far gone for even her ability.

  Forcing her throbbing legs to carry her up the stairs, Bree headed into her bedroom. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and forget all about this roller coaster of a night.

  A possible job promotion.

  The bad-news ex.

  Lucas Russell.

  Eventful for sure and not at all what she’d expected when heading out earlier to arrange Mr. Loaded Cowboy from Dallas’s trip away from the faro tables to a visit behind the velvet ropes of the French Quarter’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club.

  Her heart still throbbed a little harder than it should. She should shower and let hot water soothe her racing thoughts and soak away her aches, but showering would mean dealing with her bandages. She simply didn’t have the energy.

  Lucas had done all the hard work already, so Bree just pulled on comfy jersey pajamas a
nd crawled into bed. Nestling deep beneath the warm covers, she paced her breathing and tried to clear the thoughts snapping through her brain like a ball around a roulette wheel.

  But the sound of Lucas’s laughter still echoed on the fringes, along with her breathless thanks when her boss had given her the news about the promotion opportunity.

  She could also hear the grinding of rubber over wet pavement, tires turning behind her, pulse throbbing dully in her ears as the sedan had followed her through the dark streets.

  Damn, why now? She stood a really good shot at the head hostess job. And she needed the money. While the treasure reward money had raised Tally’s fortunes considerably, her sister shouldn’t be expected to put aside her goals to foot the bills for their family.

  She and Tally had been the sole support of their younger brother, Mark, since their mother had gone AWOL. Mark had been only fourteen at the time, and raising him hadn’t been cheap. Both she and Tally had given up college scholarships to work, and Bree would continue covering her share of Mark’s expenses now that he’d finally—thankfully—decided to focus on college.

  Tally deserved to spend her share of the money on reaching for her goals and starting a new life with her handsome fiancé. And even more importantly, Bree deserved the head hostess job. She was detail-oriented and worked well with the other VIP hostesses. She knew the ins and outs of the Big Easy better than anyone on the staff. She’d been at Toujacques longer, too.

  Except for Lana. And the thought of working for that self-absorbed, ass-kissing former Vegas showgirl made Bree toss restlessly under the covers.

  Plumping her pillow, she tried to find a more comfortable position. On her side, and her knees squeezed together and ached. On her back, and her legs extended and her knees ached. Lying on her stomach wasn’t even a consideration.

  Finally settling in an awkward place somewhere between her back and side, she tried to convince herself that Toujacques’ big boys would be fair enough to promote the woman most qualified for the job.

  She was most qualified. No question.

  Everyone knew it. Everyone also knew Lana would feel she deserved the job because she’d been there longer. She’d torture the entire staff if passed over. Everyone knew that, too, which meant Bree’s future boiled down to whether or not the managers wanted to deal with Lana’s tantrums.

  Unfortunately Bree understood. Time didn’t exist in the around-the-clock world of big money and high rollers. The casino stayed open 24/7, an active and exciting life but a demanding one. So the absolute last thing Bree needed to do was give the big boys any grief or aggravation.

  Jude Robicheaux was always grief and aggravation.

  If Lana caught wind of Bree’s former connection to the smooth-talking Cajun con man, she’d have a field day making sure everyone from the French Quarter to Bayou Teche knew about Bree’s not-so-stellar past. After turning her life around and establishing herself in a solid career, Bree could kiss any hope of job advancement goodbye.

  Management would be announcing the promotion after their quarterly meeting next week. Why couldn’t Jude have waited one more stupid week before coming back to town?

  And what was she going to do now that he had?

  Bree had no answers, and with a sigh she turned restlessly again, debating whether or not to get out of bed and tackle alterations on her dress. Or scrub the bathroom, which seriously needed it.

  She was only torturing herself by lying here. Sleep wasn’t in the cards tonight. She needed to distract herself. Or talk. Not so long ago, she’d have come home, plopped down on Tally’s bed and spilled her guts.

  Now there was a man in bed with her sister.

  Bree was thrilled with Christien. Really. Tally was head over heels, and Bree couldn’t have picked a more perfect man. She wanted Tally to be happy, even if her sister had gotten so caught up in the spirit of the treasure hunt that she was taking the whole ghost legend thing seriously. Even if all the time she spent in bed with her new fiancé or at the Blue Note meant Bree didn’t get to see her nearly enough anymore.

  Right now Bree needed to hear her sister laugh as if everything was a joke, because it all felt big. Too big. Bree had worked her butt off to put Jude Robicheaux behind her. She was independent now and making something of her life.

  Her sister would agree. She’d praise Bree for how hard she’d worked to be considered for this promotion, for how she’d started at Toujacques as a cocktail waitress and worked her way up through the ranks.

  She’d remind Bree about how long they’d dreamed of moving into a real home that wasn’t some tiny apartment in a dumpy complex or a prefab rental in a bad section of town.

  To Bree and Tally a real home had meant Court du Chaud. Their connection to the swashbuckling Captain Dampier had been the only thing to make them feel special in an existence that often felt weighted with problems and responsibilities. And when they’d finally gotten their shot at owning their own home, it had all felt magical, special.

  Tally would tell Bree not to let anything take that feeling away, not to let anyone smack her down again.

  She knew Tally was right, but as Bree sat up in bed and stared at the wall that had been skillfully designed to match the old, she wished she could actually hear Tally say it.

  WITH HIS EYES TIGHTLY shut, Captain Gabriel Dampier moved through the wall of the bedroom that had once been his in life. After spending nearly two hundred years haunting his former quarters in Court du Chaud, he had witnessed many who’d inhabited these rooms and had no wish to intrude on anyone’s privacy.

  Especially this chit’s. She was directly descended from him, and the very idea of chancing across her in a state of dishabille or, heaven forbid, engaged in some intimate activity smacked far too close to perversion for comfort. As much as he wanted Breanne to fall wildly and hopelessly in love, he had already established guidelines for proper behavior with her twin. He would adhere to those rules now.

  Neither death nor the passing of generations apparently tempered the familial bond running through his bloodline. He was Breanne’s many-times-removed grand-père. While he might not have behaved appropriately paternally in life—or even been aware he’d sired offspring—he was correcting the oversight in death.

  After listening closely for any sounds of movement, Gabriel peered narrowly through half-closed lids to find his beautiful descendent lying restlessly across the bed.

  He sighed, relieved, and opened his eyes.

  “You are a fool.” A familiar voice startled him.

  “Eternal damnation,” he snapped much louder than he had intended, a rebellion against the invisible barrier between the living world and his own. “Must you plague me at every turn?”

  “Yes.”

  An unnecessary reply to a question he well knew the answer to. This crone had been tormenting him ever since the fateful night he’d been gunned down on his ship. He’d awakened to find himself dead and her his only companion in the afterlife.

  Talk about cursed!

  Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw her ghostly form emerge through the wall, a shawl pulled tightly around her stooped shoulders, a pleased expression on her withered face.

  The sum of his life obviously equaled a dismal failure to have earned this woman as an eternal reward.

  “Go away. I have no wish to deal with you tonight.”

  She laughed, a grim sound that would have raised the hairs on his neck had life still pulsed through his veins. “You should have thought of that before you involved yourself with my granddaughter and spawned a bloodline that we share. I’m surprised you have not yet figured out that death is not about what you wish.”

  That much he knew. “You shall not ruin my mood, belle grand-mère. Not when the end is finally within my grasp. Breanne has met a man who sparks her interest. She is all that is standing between me and my eternal peace. I can break your damn curse once and for all.”

  “Still so proud, pirate.”

  “I am no p
irate.” The words fell from his lips mindlessly, a habit from long ago.

  But even as his denial faded to silence, he could see a smile split her shriveled cheeks until she reminded him of an apple left too long in the sun.

  “Then go about your business. I will not disturb you. I would only savor the joy of watching you fail.”

  “Fail? This chit’s twin lies in the arms of her new fiancé. Tallis has placed her love for him above her ambition. The curse you placed on our descendents—”

  “You I cursed, pirate. Our descendents I blessed to never know the heartache you heaped upon my beautiful granddaughter.”

  Curses. Blessings. A matter of opinion. Gabriel’s only consolation was that by cursing him, this vengeful old grand-mère had cursed herself to share in his fate. Not much of a consolation when he’d had to actually listen to her for two hundred years, of course.

  “As I was saying,” he continued. “The curse is almost broken. You should be grateful, so you can finally rest, too.”

  “I’d rather watch you fail than rest, pirate.”

  “Fail? You seem to have forgotten the new skill I acquired to help me bring Tallis and Christien together.”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” she said in an irritating singsong voice. “I’ve forgotten no such thing. You have every right to be flush with your new skill.”

  A compliment? Had he been alive, the hairs on his neck would have been bristle-straight. This woman loathed him. He loathed her, too, truth be told, but she actually had more of a reason. He had been the biggest fool where the beautiful Madeleine had been concerned.

  But hadn’t he heard somewhere that forgiveness played a part of death?

  Sheer stubbornness forced Gabriel to turn away and pretend to ignore her. He would not ask what she meant because he knew she wouldn’t tell him. No forgiveness with this one. She would only reveal herself when she knew it would stab like a knife, and he’d entertained her far too often with his failures to doubt that. He wouldn’t let her see that her words had hit their mark. And honestly, he wasn’t all that confident of his ability to help Breanne overcome her ambition.