Going All Out

by Jeanie London

  “I don’t know. We’re run by a corporation that holds a number of other interests. Management can be pretty unpredictable sometimes.”

  “Which is why they need to create your position?”

  “You got it. Businessmen control the VIP hostess staff, and they don’t always have a bead on what we’re doing with the guests. They understand keeping the tabs paid all right. And they know the gaming laws, too, but they sit inside their offices making decisions that don’t necessarily translate onto the floor. We need someone on the management staff.”

  “Sounds like you’re the perfect woman for the job.”

  “Agreed.”

  He smiled, and the street lamp spilled golden light onto his face. Suddenly she could remember how his mouth felt on hers when they’d kissed. It was a tingly, fluttery feeling that made her heart beat quicker, which she thought completely ironic since they were in the exact same place where she’d noticed Jude following her. Her heart had been beating hard then, too.

  “So what sorts of decisions get made to complicate your work?” he asked.

  She exhaled a heavy sigh, masked her breathlessness beneath exasperation. “They change things with the other departments and don’t tell the hostesses. When we’re on the floor, we’re the ones dealing with transportation specialists, outside security, the vault cashiers, the change clerks and the cocktail servers. We’re the liaisons between our guests and the casino staff.”

  “I can see where that could get complicated.”

  “Trust me, it can be chaos. Especially since we’re usually running back and forth off the floor to arrange our guests’ accommodations outside the casino. Making sure their friends and families are entertained so they can gamble. Setting them up with whatever they want to see around the city. And if we’re dealing with celebrities or well-known politicians, we’ve got privacy issues to deal with. Can’t leave these guys standing in long lines waiting to get inside the clubs.”

  He looked unimpressed.

  “Then there’s the whole clarity issue.” She gave a huff, this time the exasperation real. She just couldn’t help it when thinking about Lana.

  “Clarity about what?”

  “About job description. What hostesses can and can’t do. Not twenty minutes ago, I defended myself for not procuring for a guest. I mean, really. Do I look like a pimp to you?”

  Lucas’s laughter echoed through the dark street, filtered through her and made her so aware of him and the promise of what his bare skin might feel like wrapped around her.

  “Definitely not,” he said. “But I was under the impression Louisiana’s gaming control laws were strict. Or have I just been living in Pescadero too long?”

  She shook her head. “See, this is where clarity comes in. My coworker has a looser interpretation of our job description than I do. Anything goes as long as she doesn’t get caught.”

  He seemed to consider that, falling into silence while dragging his thumb across her knuckles, an idle gesture that made her notice his warm hand wrapped around hers.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, a companionable stretch that made her oh-so-aware of the way he tucked her against his body almost possessively, timed his long strides to accommodate hers—a thoughtful gesture, as she was strolling along in high heels.

  Bree smiled into the darkness, marveling at the timing of meeting Lucas. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought no matter how much chemistry had brewed between them. She didn’t date privileged, power-freak men and she’d dodged enough to spot one a mile off.

  But to be entirely fair to Lucas, he wasn’t exactly her run-of-the-mill rich guy. There was just something different about him. His candor maybe. He didn’t try to schmooze her, didn’t deny that he’d invited her to the ball so he could spend time getting to know her beforehand. He’d shown up tonight to see her home safely and hadn’t made any bones about it. No, Lucas hadn’t tried to play her. He’d been playing his cards straight, and she liked that.

  “Sounds like you have a very interesting career,” he finally said. “So how’d you become a VIP hostess?”

  “Are you always so curious? Or do you usually know more about a woman before asking her out? I don’t imagine you’ve picked up many dates in your flower beds before.”

  “You’re my first.” He chuckled, a whiskey-smooth sound that filtered through the night like his warm hand over her skin. “I’m interested in you.”

  “Well, then, I sort of fell into hostessing. I started at Toujacques as a cocktail waitress but soon discovered that plying our guests with alcohol to get them to part with their cash wasn’t my thing.” She’d seen enough people drink themselves into numbness without making a career of it.

  Lucas inclined his head and didn’t ask about her formal education. Or lack thereof. So many men loved to talk about their alma maters, as if degrees from prestigious universities actually endorsed their characters.

  Not true, as Bree well knew.

  Josie was currently wrapping up her doctoral program, so Bree figured that Lucas probably had as much or more education. She’d rather not admit that she’d given up a scholarship to keep her family together. She did not want to get into any explanations about her mother. Like Jude, her mother had no place in a week-long fling.

  She’d rather just enjoy herself, thank you.

  “It’s interesting work,” she continued. “No two nights are ever the same, and I enjoy the puzzle of figuring out what my guest needs. I have contacts all over the city for business, entertainment, leisure activities.”

  “Sounds like a hotel concierge.”

  “The work is similar, with a few exceptions.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m dealing with high rollers, which means big bucks. Sometimes guests get carried away at the tables and gamble more than they’re prepared to pay. It’s my job to make sure they don’t skip town before settling their debt.”

  “So you’re law enforcement.”

  She just laughed. Leave it to Lucas to come up with that. But she supposed in a way he was right. She had honed her skill at spotting deadbeats and sidestepping potential trouble. In Toujacques and out.

  Luckily Bree hadn’t spotted any deadbeats tonight. And since Jude didn’t appear to be anywhere around as she and Lucas crossed the street to walk along Court du Chaud’s wall, she thought her luck might be holding. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, no tailing cars, no suspicious shadows.

  They rounded the corner in companionable silence and soon were strolling past Café Eros. The place had been battened down for the night, the doors locked and the tables empty on the patio and balcony.

  A light glowed from somewhere within—a security spotlight or perhaps Chloe was hard at work cooking. She’d be Tally’s sister-in-law as soon as Tally walked down the aisle with Christien, and Bree couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t something in the water at Court du Chaud.

  Lust seemed to be making the rounds lately, which could explain her off-the-charts attraction to Lucas.

  And although she was focused on her career goals and not looking to get involved in anything heavy, Bree was glad she hadn’t been left out.

  Stellar sex sounded like just what the doctor ordered.

  She waited while Lucas unlatched the alley gate one-handed, an easy move that hinted at a lifetime of living here. The court at this hour echoed with their footsteps as they walked along the sidewalk. She could see the flowers draping her balcony railing above them, dark against the starlit night.

  Lucas escorted her into her yard and onto her portico. He stood on a lower step, a vantage that brought them almost eye to eye. He had to tip his head just a bit to gaze into her face, and Bree admired the unfamiliar view of his sculpted features, the light-drenched lashes that made his eyes seem lushly fringed in the darkness.

  “I’d like to see you tomorrow.” Glancing at his watch, he smiled. “Later today, really. When will you sleep?”

 
“Now. It’s been a long night. I’m due at the den at one. How about you?”

  “I told John I’d be there, too. I didn’t say when. What time do you to work today?”

  She smiled, a slow smile she wanted Lucas to notice, wanted to make him think of kissing again. And he obliged. His gaze fixed on her mouth, and an awareness flared in his eyes.

  “It so happens I’m off. How lucky is that?”

  “Very lucky,” he agreed and went right for the kill. “Let’s spend it together.”

  “Getting the float ready?”

  “I can think of other things I’d like to do with you.”

  Mmm. “Like what?”

  That melting look on his face brought to mind more thoughts of lingering kisses and bare skin. Suddenly she was all sensation. The late-night air seeped beneath her coat. The dewy chill kissed her cheeks, moistened her lips.

  And made Lucas’s hair wave sexily.

  Although he wore a typical businessman style—short, neat—this slightly ruffled look softened his hard edges, looked so thoroughly touchable that she wanted to slide her fingers through the glossy thickness. She could imagine what he would look like when he first awoke, his strong features relaxed with sleep. She wondered what he would look like lazy with desire or with his features sharpened by need.

  Bree was surprised by how much she wanted to know, so she made the first move, slipping her hands over his shoulders, curling her fingers into the lightweight fabric of his jacket. She wasn’t a woman who needed a man to make the first move, so she used touch to bridge the distance, to create a physical connection that bound them together in the stillness.

  “I was hoping to get enough work done on the float later so I could sneak out of town for the night,” she said. “I want to get away before all the craziness starts with the krewe.”

  “Where?”

  “A plantation south of here. Félicie Allée.”

  “That place was a historical site when I was growing up. I didn’t realize it was a hotel now.”

  “It’s not. A private company hosts business functions there. I have some work connections with the owners and visit whenever I can. We might luck into a room tonight. Depends on what they have scheduled. Interested?”

  Lucas slipped his fingers along her jaw, cradled her face in his warm hand. “Yes.”

  His touch sent a spray of goose bumps along her skin, or maybe it was the intensity in his expression, the quiet that surrounded them as if they were the only people on the planet.

  He thumbed her chin with a light touch, traced her lower lip. His gaze fixed on her mouth again, and she wondered if he was remembering their kiss.

  She was.

  “You’ll make the arrangements?” he asked.

  “Just keep your fingers crossed that they’ll have something available.”

  “Consider them crossed.”

  He dragged his thumb over her lip again. It was a sexy touch, one that inspired her to part her mouth and taste the faint roughness of his skin. Lucas created with his hands. Law-enforcement software. The electrical system of a float. He’d even bandaged her wounds.

  She sensed his hands would be equally skilled at pleasure.

  It was in his touch, simple, bold, a touch that understood how sexy intimacy could be. Because that’s what this was—intimate. Here they stood on her front doorstep with the night fading around them. Their bodies close yet not touching. His fingers against her face in a featherlight caress. His gaze embracing her from that unfamiliar vantage.

  Everything about Lucas aroused her, and she found that realization thrilling and effortless in a very intriguing way. Their kiss in the den had been this way, too. Natural. No permission. No deliberation. No warning. Just…inevitable. As if they couldn’t stand close together and not kiss.

  They were standing so close now.

  Bree wasn’t sure whether she moved first or he did, but suddenly they were melting against each other. Her arms slipped around his neck. His hard body unfolded against her, chasing away the night’s chill, sheltering her in a possessive embrace.

  Their mouths came together almost gently at first, and they shared a breath that tasted so much like yearning, a sigh of relief at finally giving in to the inescapable. Lucas’s mouth on hers felt so simple, so inevitable, so right.

  He pushed his tongue inside, a hot stroke that held no urgency, as if he had forever to explore this lazy pleasure that happened when they were in each other’s arms.

  Bree had no frame of reference, had never known this sort of languid intimacy with any man. She only knew that when she threaded her fingers into his hair, measured the feel of those sexy waves against her imagination, the moment felt like a privilege. Touching his hair. Such a simple thing.

  But nothing about this moment felt simple.

  Her hands trembled.

  Her mouth parted wider, wanting.

  And low, oh-so-low in her belly desire kindled, exquisite heat that throbbed in time with her pulse. She kissed him with abandon, giving in to the winding pleasure that made her sigh against his mouth, press her body hungrily against his.

  The night fell away even though some dim part of her brain registered that their heated breaths echoed in the stillness. They were wrapped in each other’s arms on her front doorstep without a care for who might be watching.

  This sort of wanting shouldn’t be possible.

  But she wanted. To stretch out beside this man naked. To explore their bodies with no time limits, no interruptions. She wanted to breathe an invitation against his lips. Come inside. Make love to me.

  But she had no idea when Mark would be home from his girlfriend’s. He seemed more comfortable sleeping at her place since Christien had come onto the scene. Bree could have suggested they go to Lucas’s place, but she stopped herself. She knew what this man really wanted.

  A challenge.

  Falling into bed within the first twenty-four hours of their acquaintance would be too easy. Not a conquest but a disappointment. Much better to get him out of familiar environs and create a fantasy he’d remember forever.

  But it was hard to hang on to that thought when his mouth devoured hers hungrily, when his tongue pursued hers with a leisurely insistence that made it difficult to think or to wait when she knew her bed was just up the stairs.

  A part of her wanted Lucas to be the one to cross that boundary, to simply be so eager for her that he couldn’t wait. If he asked, she wouldn’t say no.

  Not when she wanted to arch her body against him, to ride the length of his thigh, to feed the needy little ache growing between her legs.

  Bree managed to keep the invitation from her lips, not because of self-control but because she’d have to stop kissing him to talk. She couldn’t keep from rocking her hips from side to side, trying to nurture the ache inside, tipping her hand at how hot she burned for him. Taunting him.

  Lucas replied in kind. Slipping his hand down her back, he took full advantage of the moment, dragged his outstretched palm over the curve of her bottom. He pressed her so close that she could feel the length of his erection, knew she wasn’t the only one yearning right now. It wasn’t an invitation but an admission of how much he wanted.

  That hardness caught her in exactly the right spot, and it was so easy to lose herself. To forget they stood on her front step. To forget that Tally or Christien or Mark could show up. To forget this man was practically a stranger. To forget she should challenge him.

  The next thing she knew, he was breaking out of the tangle of their bodies. She exhaled a sigh that was part protest and part relief and peered into his face to recognize a restraint as tenuous as her own.

  “Tonight.” The word tumbled from her lips unbidden.

  “Tonight.” He smiled, a promise. “Sweet dreams, Bree.”

  Funny, she thought when he turned and strode down the steps with long, sure strides, his deep voice still lingering in her ears. Bree knew her dreams tonight would be very sweet.

  GABRI
EL SAT ON THE GATE linking his careless descendents’ front lawn with the alley leading to le Vieux Carré. The French Quarter. No matter how much this magnificent city had grown and changed in the centuries since he’d walked the streets in life, certain things remained infinitely more civilized in French.

  He would cling to those things, the only things he had left in this cursed hell of an afterlife.

  His pride, gone. His peace of mind, too.

  Especially as he watched Lucas stroll back into the court trying to look normal. His swagger told a different story. No matter how long he’d been dead, Gabriel hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to walk with his crotch as hard as a mainmast.

  And he was pleased with the progress of Breanne and her lusty new beau. He wasn’t pleased that desire seemed to have addled both their brains. Would that they had taken all their passion upstairs into the bedroom!

  Instead these two had indiscriminately fondled each other, then had gone their separate ways. Now Lucas strolled past the alley, oblivious to the man standing in the shadows of the piazza hedges. An intruder who’d been waiting in those shadows ever since Breanne and Lucas had returned, watching their passionate antics.

  Gabriel’s instincts were one of the few things that had followed him from life into death, an echo perhaps or a memory that he clung to, deluding himself that something of the man he once was remained. He refused to analyze this too closely, didn’t really want to know which it was. Some things he was content to simply let be.

  This intruder in the shadows was not one of them.

  An overgrown wisteria vine shielded him from the light of a street lamp, but he had a crow’s-nest view of the proceedings on Breanne’s front doorstep.

  The intruder seemed very interested and very displeased.

  Which was why Gabriel sat here and waited to see what the fellow did next. With a vested interest in both Breanne’s and Lucas’s continued health at the moment, Gabriel needed to keep lookout. First he had to keep belle grand-mère from starting up her nonsense to keep Breanne from Lucas the way she had tried—and almost succeeded—to keep Tallis and Christien apart. Now this intruder.