by Mallory Kane
Tumbled in with the crawfish were tiny golden new potatoes and half ears of corn. The waitress set down a pitcher of beer, and a basket of French bread. "Y' all holler if you need anything, cher."
Seth's mouth was watering, but Adrienne eyed the table full of crawfish as if they were about to rise up and attack her.
He smiled inwardly. She really was a princess. "So how do you peel these?" he asked, holding one up close to her nose, tamping down on his hungry urge to just dig into the fragrant pile of mudbugs. He couldn't blow his cover, though. A wealthy continental type who'd never been to New Orleans before wouldn't have the first idea how to peel crawfish and eat them.
"I don't know."
"You've never peeled a crawfish? You must not have lived in New Orleans very long."
"But 1 have. I grew up here. My father owned a chain of hotels. Our flagship hotel was on Canal Street. We actually lived there when I was a child."
"You lived in a hotel? What hotel?"
"The Caldwell."
Seth pretended to be surprised. He had been apprised before he took the assignment that her father was Adrian Caldwell, the internationally renowned hotelier. Although he knew she'd been rich all her life, he felt his contempt returning hearing her confirm how she'd lived the stereotypical life of a pampered socialite. He chided himself. He'd known from the beginning she couldn't possibly be the angel she seemed to be. In fact, he'd counted on it. He concentrated on his real reason for being here.
Feigning fascination with the hot boiled crawfish, he took one and pulled off its tail, deliberately fumbling a bit. "They're similar to the tiger prawns I've had in Sydney, but smaller," he improvised.
Adrienne finally picked one up with her pink-tipped fingers. "I've watched the servants. Apparently you split them like this, then dig out the meat, then—" she stopped.
Seth knew what came next. He hid a smile. "Then what?"
Her cheeks flamed. "Then you're supposed to, um, suck the head and pinch the tips."
"Show me," he rasped, unable to take his eyes off her, controlling his growing desire with a ferocious will. He knew exactly how to eat crawfish. He'd even teased girls with the words Adrienne had just spoken, using them as a double entendre. But until this moment, he'd never completely understood just how sexy eating crawfish could be.
His body reacted like a teenager's as she put the head of the crawfish to her luscious lips. He shifted in his chair, his jeans suddenly way too tight, his heart pounding, his gaze riveted on her mouth.
She pinched the tail and pulled the last bit of meat from the shell with her teeth. A tiny drop of juice ran down her chin.
Seth reached over and stopped the droplet with his thumb, then slid it up to her parted lips. Her tongue touched his thumb and he groaned. Lust raged through him.
No, it wasn't going to be hard to seduce her. It was going to be hard to avoid being seduced by her. Very hard, he thought wryly as sensitized flesh rubbed against rough denim.
Seth set his jaw against the urge to lean over and kiss her. Job, man. Remember the job. His assignment was to seduce her for information. And he would complete his assignment as planned. In Special Forces, there was no room for distractions.
Adrienne hadn't meant to touch Seth's thumb with her tongue. She was shocked, both by her action and by her reaction Her insides quivered, her thighs tightened. She felt heat spread through her like a fire fed by pure oxygen.
She glanced at Seth, who looked away and took a long drink of beer. He'd felt it, too. She was sure. She'd heard his barely suppressed groan.
What was happening to her? She'd never been all that interested in sex. But every move Seth made, every word he spoke, acted on her like an aphrodisiac.
"Did you say your husband's death was unexpected?"
Her heart took a nosedive, landing in her stomach. She grabbed another crawfish and picked at its shell with her fingernails, just for something to do.
She'd half expected Seth to try to kiss her, as he had last night. She'd been waiting for it, wondering what she would do if he tried. So his abrupt switch back to the topic of her husband had shocked her. His question was a blow As if he'd forced himself back to business.
"Yes, it was unexpected, in a way."
Seth watched her.
She met his gaze, feeling the numbness threaten to creep back inside her. "He died of a heart attack. He was in bed with a prostitute at the time."
Seth's eyes went wide.
She'd surprised him. A tiny sense of satisfaction swept through her. She popped a morsel of crawfish into her mouth and took a sip of beer. "Anything else you want to know?"
"I'm sorry, Adrienne. You must have been crushed."
She almost choked on the beer, coughing and laughing at the same time. "Could we talk about something besides my boring life?"
What would he do if she told him the truth? The whole truth? This wealthy young executive who'd been so confident she'd go out with him would probably be shocked if he knew what her life was really like. But she couldn't tell him. For all she knew, he was just like Jerome. Just like Tony. She couldn't trust him.
She remembered Tony's warning to not talk, just listen. Ever since Marc had died, Adrienne had been watched over by Tony Arsenault.
Tony had been Marc's best friend, but she knew the reason he had taken her under his wing It was not out of affection or friendship. The Cajun mob liked her social position. They liked her influence. And they liked her money.
She'd tried to get away from them, but she'd quickly found out there was no getting away. Only a few months after Marc's death, her mother had suffered a debilitating stroke. St. Cecilia's was the safest place Adnenne knew. But it wasn't safe enough.
Tony never failed to ask about her mother. And every time he did, a knife blade of terror cut through Adri-enne's heart. The message was clear Your mother's continued survival depends upon your cooperation.
"What are you thinking about, princess? You've mutilated that poor crawfish."
Seth's deep voice penetrated her thoughts and pulled her back to the present. She looked at his plate, which was had mysteriously become piled high with crawfish carcasses.
The sight made her forget her troubles for the moment. A chuckle escaped her throat as she shook juice off her fingers and reached for the roll of paper towels sitting on the table. It was an odd feeling—a welcome feeling. "You certainly didn't waste any time learning how to peel crawfish."
"Hunger is a good teacher. Besides, I read that guy's T-shirt." He inclined his head to their right.
A bald man with a big spare tire around his middle drained a beer as he peered out over the lake. The back of his red T-shirt had a diagram of how to extract the meat from a crawfish with the words Suck Dem Heads, Pinch Dem Tips plastered across his shoulder blades.
"You read a T-shirt?" Seth's simple solution struck her as funny. Covering her mouth, she laughed. He reached over and pulled her hand away.
"Don't do that." He held on to her fingers, running the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.
Her laughter died in her throat and a sensual awareness took over. She could have sworn a sparked flared when their hands touched. Her senses were becoming hyperaware of the warmth of his closeness, of the indulgent smile that played about his lips, of the silky rough feel of his hand over hers.
"Don't what?" she asked.
"Cover up your laugh. I like it." He let go of her hand and brushed the backs of his fingers across the corner of her mouth. "You need to laugh more, princess."
She thought about the irony of that thought. She did need to laugh more often. She'd forgotten how good it felt. But when would she ever feel free enough to? When would she ever feel safe enough to just laugh for the sake of laughing?
Seth leaned in closer to her. "Laughter becomes you," he whispered, bending his head to take her mouth in a swift, hard kiss.
She didn't stop him. By the time she felt the fullness of his warm mouth on hers he was done. He sat bac
k, his hazel eyes pensive.
Her mouth tingled. She'd like to think it was the spice from the crawfish, but she knew it was the effect of his lips on hers.
"Here." He picked up a crawfish and peeled it like an expert, then held the succulent meat to her mouth. She parted her lips and he fed it to her, letting his fingers linger.
Then he went back to peeling and eating his own.
Adrienne licked her lips, her gaze returning again and again to Seth's mouth.
"I may have another tuppence in my pocket," he commented, raising his beer.
"What?"
He smiled. "What are you thinking now?"
"I was thinking I'm glad you brought me here. This is fun." As she said the words, she realized they were true. Seth Lewis was funny, he was unpredictable and he seemed to genuinely care about her feelings.
"You say that as if you're not quite sure what fun is."
If he knew how right he was, he'd probably think she was pathetic.
"Well, now I know it's riding on a motorcycle and eating crawfish with my fingers."
He grinned. "It's a lot more than that, Adrienne. Today you've done two things you've never done before."
Three, Adrienne thought. I've been kissed by a man who takes my breath away.
"What else haven't you done? My mission in life will be to introduce you to all the fun you've missed. Now let's finish eating. I want to explore. I want to see an alligator."
"Okay." She laughed. "But the only ones I've seen are in the Audubon Park zoo."
He popped open another crawfish. "No. No zoo. I want to see one in its natural habitat."
Adrienne studied him. He seemed to be everything her husband hadn't been. Open, kind, loving. What if she could trust him? Her heart leapt. Had she finally met someone who was exactly who he seemed to be? Or was he using her to try and get in with the mob?
By the time they got back to Adrienne's house, the sun was hidden by tall buildings and shadows were creeping in.
Seth killed the engine of the Harley Adrienne slid her helmet off, shaking out her hair. It fell like a silken blanket over her bare, sun-kissed shoulders.
"Here you are. Delivered right back to your door, and well before midnight, too."
She shook her hair back and raised one light brown eyebrow. "Are you suggesting your motorcycle will turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight?"
"You never know, princess. Depends on whether today was real or only a fairy tale." His insides twisted as he hung his helmet on the handlebars. He'd meant his comment lightheartedly, but the truth of his words echoed in his head. If it was real, then he hadn't yet accomplished his objective, which was to pry information from the Widow DeBlanc using any means necessary. If it was a fairy tale, then—Seth stopped. It wasn't a fairy tale. There would be no happily-ever-after ending, not if what Burke and the others thought about her was true. He didn't want to believe that she was involved in any of the drug dealing or prostitution or corruption. But whether he wanted to believe it or not didn't matter. He had a job to do.
"Would you—"
His head snapped up.
She stopped.
He took the helmet from her fingers and buckled it onto the back of the Harley.
"Would I what? Like to come in?"
She inclined her head slightly.
"That depends." He nodded toward her house. "How many servants are hanging around in there?"
She lifted her nose almost imperceptibly, but he noticed it. "None. I don't have servants. I have a housekeeper who comes twice a week. There's a man who does the lawn and maintains the house and the cars. But I like privacy. There's no army of servants lurking in every corner of the house. That was my husband's style, not mine."
He heard the bitter tinge in her voice. She was such an enigma. He longed to strip her Southern politesse away and get down to the real person beneath.
"Yes, I'd like to come in. Would you rather I parked the Harley down the street?"
She laughed and shook her head, her hair floating around her shoulders. "No. I don't care if there's a motorcycle parked in front of my house."
But he saw her glance around furtively as they headed inside. If she really didn't care, what was she worried about?
After he'd scrubbed the crawfish smell off his hands, Seth walked into the massive white-and-chrome kitchen. Adrienne, who had changed into a long flowing dress and put her hair up again like a princess, was pouring iced tea.
"Thanks." He picked up the glass and drank, then grimaced.
"Oh, don't you like sweet tea?" She shot him a teasing glance. "It's a staple of the South."
He hated it. Had ever since he was a kid growing up in the rough, poor neighborhoods of the Ninth Ward. He thought about his cover story. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude. One develops a taste for it I suppose."
She frowned at him. "Where did you grow up?" she asked, surprising him.
It was as if she'd read his mind.
"You are American aren't you?"
He set down the glass. "I've lived in a lot of places," he parried. "Could I have water instead?" Then, before she could continue to question him, he turned the tables on her.
"This is a great house. How long have you lived here?"
"My husband bought the house when we married."
"So that would be—"
"Eight years ago." She handed him a bottle of water without meeting his searching gaze. As he drank she played with her glass, tracing her finger along the rim, her back stiff.
Seth didn't miss the change in her body language when she spoke about her husband. "You married young."
She shrugged. "I was twenty-two. Just out of college. My husband was older. He was an attorney, a very successful one." Her fingers wrapped around the glass until her knuckles whitened. Seth covered her hand with his.
"What's the matter, princess? You still miss him?"
She looked at him then, a flicker of pain crossing her face. "That doesn't even come close to describing how I feel."
He stepped closer. Was the pain because she missed her husband, or because she didn't? He filed away the question to consider later. "I don't mean to bring up bad memories. I just want to know more about you. A lot more about you."
She slid her hand from under his and took a sip of her tea. Her hand was trembling slightly, and a drop of condensation fell from the glass. The dress's neckline revealed just enough skin so Seth could watch the droplet trickle down between her breasts. She stopped the drop with her fingertip.
"Adrienne," he whispered in a strangled voice, his body throbbing with reaction.
She lifted her gaze to his and her lips parted. "Seth, I don't—do this kind of thing—"
He rounded the granite-topped island to stand in front of her. "Shh," he whispered. "I don't either, usually."
Then he leaned down and took her mouth in a soft, questioning kiss. She didn't recoil this time, but she didn't react, either. She stood there, stiff and unyielding, her lips parted but passive.
She tasted like sweet tea and salt and lipstick, and he hungered for more. Lifting his head briefly, he looked into her eyes, afraid he'd see the hard look he'd seen all those years ago on the face of the woman his father had kissed.
But her long thick eyelashes rose, revealing her dewy, questioning gaze.
"Adrienne, it's up to you," he murmured, his heart pounding. Was the look in her eyes passion or fear?
"I'm not very experienced—" Her teeth scraped her lower lip.
"I don't care," he growled and bent his head again.
Adrienne felt as though she were losing control of her mind and her body. Both were betraying her. Seth's mouth moved over hers, kissing her in a way she'd never been kissed before. His lips were firm and warm, yet gentle as the brush of a spring leaf. He pulled at the knot of her hair, and the single clasp that held it popped open. He ran his fingers through the golden strands, then entwined it around one hand as he circled her waist with the other. She felt the stren
gth of his thighs and the obvious swell of his desire against her.
Her knees went weak, but Seth held her, steadied her. His tongue touched her lips and she responded, dizzy with the suddenness of her reaction.
His gentleness turned to fierce need as he tore his month from hers and grazed her jawline, then her neck, planting kisses along the muscles that had been so tight for so long. The knots relaxed beneath his questing lips. Without thinking about what she was doing, she put her arms around his neck.
He picked her up and set her on the countertop, urging her legs apart and stepping between them without ever stopping his kisses. When he slid his hand under the silky material of her dress and up her calf to her thigh, she tensed.
"Seth, I can't," she gasped against his mouth. "Not like this."
His hand slid higher.
Adrienne was close to panicking. Her body throbbed with need, her breath was short, her head spinning. But she couldn't do this. Not in the kitchen, with the lights on, in full view of any passerby who might glance in the windows. She'd never done anything so brazen in her life.
"Please stop!"
Seth pulled away, cursing silently. What the hell was wrong with him? This was supposed to be a calculated seduction, designed to get Adrienne to confide in him. Instead, he was acting like a randy kid. And he'd probably blown it by not taking it slow and sweet. But damn, he'd never felt this hot for anyone. Ever.
He tried to ignore his aching arousal. "Sorry, princess. I got carried away."
He pushed his hands through his hair and wiped his face, then looked around for his bottle of water.
"Seth?"
"Look, um, Adrienne. I apologize."
She caught his arm. When he turned, her eyes were bright and her face was a becoming pink.
"We could go upstairs." Her cheeks flamed and she avoided his gaze. "Although, perhaps you don't—"
Seth stared at her for a beat. Was she actually inviting him to make love to her? His body heated at the thought. "Believe me, princess," he said, reaching out and sweeping her into his arms. "I do."
