by Linda Joyce
The practice session lasted two hours. Tired in the best way, she laid down her baton. “Great job! I’m so proud of you.” They’d finally polished “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Maybe she had finally reached them. The kids were obviously practicing together outside of classes—a big accomplishment since she put the band together less than a year ago.
“I’m going to select a few other signature songs for us to learn, now that you’ve conquered the anthem of New Orleans.” She would pick one with a definite level of difficulty. One that would make folks take notice of this troupe at Mardi Gras. Most bands were the offspring of a school with a fight song, but her band rose from the middle school children whose parents couldn’t afford the additional expenses of instruments, music lessons, and uniforms.
“See ya,” the students said, pushing through the chairs and music stands and making their way to the door.
She scanned the room. Her nerves rocked on the very edge from the chaos of clutter. Nola began on one side of the open space and moved the chairs and music stands into place, matching them up to small colored dots she’d placed on the floor to maintain the organization of the room. Everything in its place and a place for everything. G.G. Grace had instilled that in her.
Once finished, Nola stood back and took in a deep breath, relaxing as she let it go.
A timer buzzed on her phone.
“Oh crap. I’m going to be late.”
She grabbed her purse, turned off the light, and opened the door, running into a broad chest.
Startled, Nola looked up. “Sor—”
“Whoa.” He smiled wide. Her breath caught. Her gaze locked with his. She noticed the twinkle in his eye. He found her funny?
Shaking her head, she tried to clear the daze washing over her. Her heart thumped faster.
The Rex Arceneau smiled at her.
Chapter 7
She looked lovely in twilight, Rex mused, memorizing the contours of her oval face.
“Are you okay?” He reached for her shoulders to steady her, fascinated at the quickly changing emotions in her eyes and the heat flowing from her body through his hands and into him. Involuntarily, he massaged the smooth skin of her arms, savoring the connection. After the soul-moving experience of hearing her sing, he had to know her better. Her hypnotic voice floated in his mind, and it was as though everything else in the world were just background noise.
“I’m fine.” She jerked away. “Back up.” She pushed on his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I need to lock the door. Wouldn’t want your thousand-dollar suit to get soiled.”
Her protests were a smoke screen. Whenever she touched his chest, her heart quickened. He intuitively sensed her confusion about her feelings. She might try to deny they had a connection, but it would be a lie.
“Could we go inside and talk for a minute?” He gestured toward the door.
“No. I have an appointment.” She stared at him, lips pursed, then she turned her back on him to lock the door.
Rex stuffed his hands into his pants pockets to keep from reaching for her again and rocked on his heels. Something was happening between them. Something besides a clash of wills. All of his senses said he’d be a fool not to dig deeper to discover the depth of the pull of desire. But first, he’d have to convince her brain of what her heart had already started to feel.
The hard part would come later…like how to make her understand that any personal connection between them could not thwart his business plans for his sister. “As an employee of Arceneau’s—”
“Which I understand from Kayla, I won’t be much longer.”
“You’re angry before you even hear the facts?”
She held up her finger. “Fact one, I need the job at Arceneau’s. Fact two, Arceneau’s needs me—I pack the lounge every Friday and Saturday night.”
“Did Kayla tell you how much debt the restaurant is in? Cut me a break. I’m trying make the business viable before I hand it off to her.”
“So you are a seagull.” She spat the accusation.
“Don’t worry. At some point soon, I head back to New York. Everyone will be happy. So if you’d spare me a few minutes…” He reached for her. He’d said the part about New York to gauge her reaction. Outwardly, she hid her emotions. Yet the rapid pounding of her heart and the magnetic attraction she felt for him couldn’t be more clear than if she’d posted it on a billboard on Canal Street. He possessed an unfair advantage. At times like this, his gift was a sweet blessing. She experienced the magic between them even if she failed to acknowledge it. It had a hold on her, same as him.
“Your schedule doesn’t dictate mine,” she snapped, pulling away. “I have a job this evening. Another employer who pays me to work on Monday nights.”
How many jobs did she have? Was she in financial trouble? Did she pilfer money away, like gambling at the casinos? Those things he couldn’t sense about her. “I’ll walk with you, and we’ll talk.”
“Suit yourself.”
In all the bios and interviews he’d read about her, none mentioned a stubborn streak as long as the Mississippi River. However, he enjoyed a challenge. Never backed down after setting his course on a specific path. He had to make Nola understand, when it came to his sister, his goal wasn’t to hurt her or rob her of something, but to restore balance to her world now that their father had died. Even more than that, Nola needed to understand that the relationship developing between her and him couldn’t be denied by money or other friendships.
After locking the heavy, solid front door, Nola jerked on the accordion security gate and set it into place. With a click, she snapped a padlock closed.
“That’s not a meaningful deterrent to anyone who wants to get in,” he said as two rowdy pubescent boys passed them in the street on bicycles nearly weaving into pedestrians and shouting lyrics to a song he couldn’t understand. A block away, a car horn blared, sharp and quick. In response, another driver laid on his horn. The approaching nighttime shadows didn’t always bring out the best in people. “Good bolt cutters and that lock is meaningless.”
She ignored him. Twisting her long hair, she piled it on her head, pulled a clip from her bag, and secured her mane. Then she walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk as though they hadn’t been having a conversation.
He jogged a few steps to catch up with her. The cadence of their footsteps fell into place in a comfortable rhythm as they walked the next block together. She didn’t bolt. A slight thing. He sensed a bit of yielding of her hostility.
“How did you find me?” Nola asked quietly. “This isn’t exactly your part of town.”
“Marigny. I’m familiar with it.” Back in the day, he’d played in clubs on Frenchman whenever someone turned a blind eye and let a teenager jam. New Orleans was his town. “I heard you leave the restaurant earlier, and I needed to talk with you, so I followed.”
“Followed me?” It was an accusation.
“Yeah.”
“Were you skulking around outside during band practice for two hours?”
“The two-hour part, yes. I don’t skulk.”
She huffed out an exasperated sigh and picked up her pace. “A brilliant vocabulary from a man who’s noted to be so accomplished. ‘New Orleans’ Own Conquers New York.’ Wasn’t that the headline in Restaurant Guide last week?”
He smiled. She had taken an interest in him. He’d seeped into her thoughts, not just into her heart. Did he have a right to be pleased? He began to whistle. Beside him, she quickened her stride. If it was a race she wanted, he’d have no problem. Her short legs were no match for his long ones. She could never hope to win. “Are you always running off to somewhere?”
She stopped.
He took a step past her, then turned about-face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Around them, twilight deepened into dark. Traffic pulsed with people returning home from work and others heading to restaurants and clubs for the evening. The clang of the streetcar bel
l rang out in the distance. “The first time I saw you, you were upstairs on the gallery at Fleur de Lis and escaping from your sister.”
“No. Silly man. That might be your conclusion. Again, facts are involved, and you don’t have a clue as to why I did what I did.”
He was missing many factual notes about her, which was the reason he wanted to talk, but he had her number on her emotional dial—that she could take to the bank. “Earlier, when you left the restaurant, I started after you. I’m certain you heard me, but you put earbuds in and chose to ignore me instead.”
She twisted her mouth to one side and rolled her eyes.
Score a direct hit.
“I was in a hurry. I didn’t know it was you bellowing.” She folded her arms over her chest and chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t respond to strangers screeching at me on the street.”
Screeching? Now she was baiting him for a fight. There was more than one way to do battle with a stubborn female. “Fair enough.” He smiled and nodded. “However, the fact is, I didn’t want to interrupt your class, so I waited until it was over.” He’d told the truth. Well, not all the truth. He waited, and listened, not only waiting for her to sing again, but also just in case he could uncover clues to the mystery of why she received so much money from the restaurant.
“Mr. Arceneau. You’re a spy. If you want to speak with me about your business, then please have the courtesy of doing so at the restaurant. After Saturday night.” She continued down the street. “You could make an appointment.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Running away.”
Raising her arms, she flicked her hands and held up her palms at him, energetically stopping him. Then she turned, and with a long stride, walked away.
If she thought of getting rid of him, soon she’d learn his tenacity outstretched her own—he was the next logjam in her life. She hadn’t yet accepted that fact. “Don’t think this is over, Nola,” he muttered to himself. “Stop!”
As he waited for her to halt and turn back to him, he enjoyed the sweet sway of her hips, and he imagined her dancing salsa with him. Sassy and sexy.
Only feet ahead of her, a car suddenly turned at the corner, blocking her path. The pair of kids on bicycles he’d seen earlier came around the car. The larger boy grabbed Nola’s purse, yanking it off her shoulder. The smaller one kicked her in the hip. Nola lost her balance, stumbled, and went down.
Rex’s throat constricted. He raced for her, his heart pounding in his chest.
The boys pedaled toward him.
He jerked on the handlebars of the larger kid who carried the purse, grabbing it from him.
The bike’s front wheel turned perpendicular. The kid tumbled onto the pavement. The bike crashed on top of him. The smaller boy took off, leaving his groaning friend behind. The car at the corner squealed away. Nola still lay on the ground.
Reaching her was his only concern. With her purse, he raced to her and knelt down, placing her bag between them. Her expression was dazed, eyes confused. Most of her hair had fallen loose from the clip. After brushing her hands together, she rubbed them on her pants.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Her delicate hands were scraped, but not bleeding.
She looked up, appearing to be searching for something in him. “I don’t know,” she stammered. “I think so.” She tugged on the clip, removing it. The rest of her hair tumbled down in waves of silkiness. She rubbed the back of her neck.
“Do you need a doctor?” He dragged his attention from her hair to her face. Brushing her hands away, he massaged her neck searching for signs of blood. His hands then moved down the length of her arms. As he felt for injuries, he experienced jolt after jolt of connection with her. The intensity of which, he’d never encountered before.
“Let me get up.”
As he helped her rise, a commotion sounded behind them. They turned. The purse-snatching kid picked up the damaged bicycle and hurled it into an old car in a driveway. The alarm sounded against the backdrop of city noise. Porch lights flicked on.
“Asshole!” the boy shouted. “Look for me.” He beat his chest. “I’ll be back!”
“We need to call the police.” Rex watched the kid run away and disappear around the corner.
“I need to go home and change before I go to work.”
He placed his hand in the small of her back to steady her. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get checked out.” He felt the effects of adrenaline shooting through her body—a pulsating current. His own heartbeat synchronized with hers. She was shaken and unsteady over the shock of the attack, yet no serious harm had been done.
“I need to go to work.”
“You need to call the police.”
“Are you deaf? I have to go to work.” Her insistence was just shy of hysteria.
“Then I’ll walk you.” He couldn’t leave her to fend for herself. She needed him whether she understood that or not.
“Home to change?”
“Is it far?”
She shook her head. “I live on Burgundy.”
He slipped an arm protectively around her shoulder, and she leaned a bit into him. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go.” He sensed her weariness and focused on sending healing energy into her body. As they walked a block farther, reaching Elysian Fields, Rex raised his hand. A cab pulled to the curb. He opened the door and motioned for Nola to get in. She cocked her head in protest.
“Get in, or I put you in.”
Her shoulders sagged. The pout on her lips begged to be kissed, but he restrained himself. If he kissed her senseless, it would distract her from the shock, but kissing had to wait for another time. If he started, he wouldn’t want to stop.
Settled in the cab, she leaned forward and gave the driver her address, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rex reached for her hand, his fingers rubbing over her palm. She pulled away. “It’s sore.”
“After I get you home and I’ve talk with the police, I’ll get some ice for it. Maybe the cops can find the kid from the bike he left behind.”
“I know who he is.”
“What?”
“I know him.”
“What’s his name?” Rex snapped. “I’ll have the police meet us at your home. That was assault.” He pulled out his cell phone, but she placed her hand over his and squeezed.
“No. Please. I’m trying to get Leon into the band.” She sighed. “It’s ugly, but the only way I might be able to save him is to hold this incident over his head. Force him to join us.”
“Why?”
“Could we talk about this later? My head hurts.”
Rex remained silent during the remainder of the cab ride. What was it about her band of kids that made her take such risks? Kids like that needed discipline. If their parents weren’t doling it out at home, then society had an obligation to do so. Nola had to file a report and have this kid picked up—stop him from trying to steal from someone else. Doing so could save his life.
Arriving at their destination, Rex paid the fare and then helped Nola out. Nearby, someone practiced scales on a trumpet. He recalled Marquis saying Nola was his neighbor. If it was him, maybe the two of them could talk sense into her.
Nola slid her hand between two slats of wood in the fence, and a gate opened. A soft glow from lights around the courtyard pool provided enough illumination to make out a set of stairs. “I live there.” She pointed to a door accessible through a second-floor landing.
The wooden stairway was wide enough for him to walk beside her and assist. He couldn’t protect her if she tripped, but he could keep her from tumbling backward. Her pace lagged as she climbed, the soles of her shoes scuffing on each step. He sensed fatigue setting into her body, the aftershock of the attack.
“Lord knows, I never imagined this when I started out this morning,” she said, more to herself than to him as she reached the upstairs landing.
“Ditto that.” It wasn’t his place to d
emand that she not go to work, or insist she crawl into bed. Maybe if he could convince her to sit calmly for a little while, maybe nap, her spiking pulse would settle down.
In front of her door, she pulled her purse off her shoulder and rummaged around. Her hand shook as she tried to slide the key into the lock.
“Here, let me.”
He unlocked the door and opened it. She took two steps inside. Following behind her, he closed it and took in the surroundings. A single nightlight lit up the tiny apartment. She made it to the couch and collapsed. Rex joined her. Sitting beside her, he pulled her into his arms to offer comfort and moral support. Helplessness hit him hard as tears slid down her cheeks.
What could he do for her? What wouldn’t he do to erase the pain and sadness washing through her.
“I want to save them all,” she groaned. “I’ve worked so hard.” Her voice wavered.
“Shh.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing her there.
She’s more concerned about her attacker than herself? Could she be in shock?
The pads of his thumbs wiped away her tears. Protectiveness surged within him so compelling it shocked him. Pulling her to him, he hugged her tight. She clung to him as though she needed him close as much as he needed to hold her.
Her eyes searched his face. It was as if she saw him, truly saw him for the first time. Her eyes grew wide. She must have come to some sort of realization. It surprised him when she placed her scraped palm over his heart.
He sensed her growing connection with him. It ran like an electrical current binding them together, as though they were within a solid force field. She lowered her chin, and he planted kisses down her nose.
Her breathing grew more labored. She wrapped her arms around his neck and resettled herself in his lap. There was no way she couldn’t feel his erection, the physical impact she had on him was as hard and strong as the emotional one he had with her.
The room was quiet. Soft sounds from a trumpet filtered in as if playing just for them. The longer he held her, the less he heard anything beyond short little puffs of her breath. She licked her bottom lip. Then the tip of her tongue glided over the peak of her upper lip. Mesmerized, his gaze followed her every subtle movement. It triggered a powerful hunger. He fought to contain his impulses.
