by Lynn Shurr
Probably not shaving for a week added to his image as well, because she caressed his beard before urgently unbuttoning the blue chambray shirt he’d thrown on with jeans the second he noticed Todd in the yard and knew Julia had returned to Chapelle. “I need to see that the rest of you is healed before I take advantage.” Her hands ran over his ribs and across his stomach. “You’ve lost some weight. Nice tan, though.”
“After I shoved Gran out the door, my mother showed up for a week. Mostly, I lived on what they left in the fridge and a huge fruit basket sent by Hartz. Not much else to do but lie around on the deck. If you’re satisfied, I have plans…”
“So do I, and I’m not satisfied yet. It’s been six long weeks for me, Remy.” She backed him against his desk.
“Same for me, but I didn’t have Todd to keep me company all day and all night.”
Julia slapped his newly recovered cheek with a force that showed she owned some muscle, no girly tap this. He rubbed at the sting she left behind and hoped he wouldn’t have to nurse another bruise and concoct a story to explain it. Those blue eyes he’d found so attractive from their first meeting blazed with a fire incendiary enough to leave blisters.
“What is it with you and Todd? Did you honestly believe the rumors your grandmother spread? You should know me well enough to realize I don’t sleep with my interns or my coworkers!” She poked his bare chest with a fingernail he had to be glad she kept short or she might have punctured his unguarded flesh.
“I guess I’m jealous that he’s always with you while I’ve wasted six weeks alone.”
“Days! He’s with me days learning a trade and how to run a business. My uncles showed him Bourbon Street and the bars they like to frequent. I didn’t get a decent day’s work out of him after those sprees. Okay, once we went dancing. Todd sucks at it.”
“I’m fairly good myself. We need to make a date to do that—among other things I’m better at than Todd. He wishes he could do you. Don’t deny it.” Her comments about the intern soothed, but her fingernail prodded him again—and left a crescent-shaped mark on his taut, tanned belly.
“I just said I don’t sleep with coworkers. If we’re ready to start restoring the Queen, you’ve become one of them.”
Remy felt a distinct disappointment below the belt. He tried to counter it. “Technically, I’m hiring you, and we haven’t signed that contract yet.” Wrong move.
“Oh, so Patty did turn you against me.”
“Patty has nothing to do with this. I apologize for letting her push you out of my life, and for that pity call in the middle of the night. Both were unfair.” There, he’d said the words without seeming too wussy.
Now, she stroked his burning cheek. “You were hurt and drugged. No apologies necessary. I doubt you remember the good parts.”
“Jules, the good parts were all that kept me going these last six weeks.”
His plans in paper and ink fled from his mind. His hands went to her rump in those too-tight jeans. He hiked her hard against his crotch, fully encouraged again. Julia laid her lips on his bare chest and licked her way around his nipples leaving smears of red lipstick behind like blood as if he’d been wounded again. Nope, feeling great.
Remy spun her around and hiked her hips onto his desk. He peeled off her jeans and panties, taking her high heels with them to the floor. The small statues that anchored his plans rolled and tumbled. Fly unzipped, he sank himself deep into this amazing woman—and learned one more thing about Julia Rossi. A good argument excited her. He found her ready. Both had six dry weeks to make up.
Julia lay back on the desk and drew his mouth to her lips. His hands, hot with desire, made prints on the cool surface of the glass as he drove into her. Her short nails scored his back beneath the unbuttoned shirt. He felt no pain, only ecstasy. He loved her wild like this. He loved her. Maybe, he should thank his grandmother, but never would.
****
Julia let herself go. After weeks of wondering if she and Remy had any future, she no longer doubted. What form that took, she did not know, but for now it was enough to have him arching over her delivering pleasure with each deep stroke. The heat of his flesh, the roughness of his beard against her neck and across the tops of her breasts drove her to climax. He went on as if he didn’t notice and rebuilt the fire between her thighs to blazing again before he finished.
“Not a wuss,” he murmured as his head sank between the breasts he’d managed to free early in their throes.
Julia raked her fingers through that midnight hair of his and stroked his nape. “I think you are going to have to prove that to me over and over again.”
“Any time, any place, anywhere.” Remy raised her off the glass top of his desk and marveled that they hadn’t fractured it.
The Degas ballerina suffered a broken leg, however. Julia set the one-limbed dancer upright on its pedestal. “I think NOMA carries these because of Degas’ connection to New Orleans. I’ll replace it, money well spent.”
She drew up her red cotton bikini pants, dispensed with the hooker bra, and lowered the scarlet shirt over her breasts. Let Remy enjoy what jiggle she possessed. Jules padded toward first floor powder room to do some restoration of her own. Halfway there, she stopped, arrested by the drawings pinned over Remy’s Black Diamonds designs. Her finger moved along the row: the restored lobby, the modern kitchen hidden behind a metal door embossed to fit in with the period style of the place, a suite straight out of the 1920’s, and her vision of the completed ballroom captured on paper. “Oh, Remy, that’s us dancing beneath the four chandeliers. You put in the pilasters. Don’t you look wonderful in your Confederate uniform?”
“I recreated the image you described, but I doubt any Broussard danced there during the Civil War. One officer claimed that the Cajuns would eat anything and fought fiercely, but had to be chained to the trees at night to keep them from going home after being drafted. The French-speakers didn’t consider it their conflict for the most part. They tended to rely on large families to work their small farms, not slaves. If anything, my ancestors hosted house dances—that eventually morphed into Broussard’s Barn. That’s my true heritage.” Remy shook his head ruefully.
Julia moved to him. “My family didn’t get to New Orleans until after the war, so many Italian and Sicilian immigrants at that time people began to hate and fear them. But we thrived, opening groceries and restaurants, carving stone, laying bricks, and spreading plaster. That’s my family story. Still, girls do dream of beautiful, wide-skirted dresses and a waltz with a handsome man no matter what their origin. Thank you for creating that for me.”
If Remy had discovered her wild side, now she revealed her tenderness. Julia Rossi—he’d never figure her out as he had other women and grown bored with them. Her hands went to his bare ribs again, almost tickling them before she buttoned his shirt. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
“I had a cup of coffee. There’s still some left upstairs.”
“That might go well with the twenty-three beignets I have in the car. You need feeding.”
“In every way.”
They despoiled the black satin bedspread with powdered sugar and more sex before Julia’s phone rang. Gloriously naked except for her crucifix necklace, she took the call. “Yeah, yeah, I’m looking over Remy’s plans for the Queen. They are great. Anything you can’t handle without me? Okay, tell Marv I won’t be back for lunch… Is it?” She checked her watch, two p.m. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Oh, that? You know how people in small towns exaggerate. I did tell Patty off publicly, Sal, but I’m sure she’s exaggerating. Remy still wants us for the restoration project. No harm done, right?…That so. Okay, I’ll tell him.”
Remy brushed some powdered sugar off his dark patch of chest hair and raised his brows. “What has my grandmother done now?”
“Only what she promised, withdrawn the watchers from the Queen though she had some trouble removing Miss Lolly and Miss Maxie. The building has been unprotected since noon.”
“That’s what I thought, but she made me worry.”
Remy tried to erase the crease in her forehead with his thumb. “If you are that concerned, I’ll hire an off-duty cop to stay out there until we get our own people on the site.”
“I believe that would be a good idea, but let’s make a visit this afternoon just to be sure. We can create a timeline of how we want the renovations to proceed so it won’t be a wasted journey.”
“No time spent with you is wasted, Jules. One more before we go?”
“Beignet or sex?”
“That’s entirely up to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They managed to arrive at the Queen by three-thirty. Except for the growth of the brush encouraged by the summer rains over the last weeks, the place looked about the same—until they walked along the far side of the building. Huge spray-painted scarlet letters shouted FUCK YOU, REMY! on the grimy, gray surface of the wall.
“Shit, NuNu works fast. He most likely went into town and heard the place was unguarded. I won’t be surprised if his favorite hobby is tagging railroad cars and overpasses.”
“Really, it’s not a problem. First thing, we’ll wash the exterior, get rid of all the crud, and see where repairs need to be made. Then, we’ll give her a fresh new coat of stucco until she gleams in the sun again. I’d like to get my slate man up on the roof as soon as possible to check for leaks and do any repairs. Can’t wait to get started on the interior.” At the job site, Julia became all business, making her notes, toting up estimates of both costs and time to complete each stage.
“I guess all of Chapelle is talking about our display of exhibitionism,” Remy persisted, craving a personal reply.
Unconcerned, Julia nodded. “Yes, Sal said Marv returned from grocery shopping all a-twitter over what he heard from the cashier and Mrs. Nguyen at the fish market. He’s grilling black drum tonight. You’re invited.”
“The gossip doesn’t bother you?”
“No, but it got to Todd. Sal told him to go for a walk and let off steam. Evidently, my intern was concerned about my honor and what Patty implied about us. Sweet guy, huh?”
“No, Marv is sweet. Todd wishes the rumors about him and you were true, and not just ugly gossip.”
Julia cocked her head at Remy and let him have another blast from her hot blue eyes. “You’re cute when you go all broody, but keep it buttoned down. We have work to do. I’ll need to get some scaffolding up in the ballroom to inspect the coffers and make molds to replace the most badly damaged.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“First, I have to own what I did, and I’m not ashamed. Half the town probably wishes they’d shoved a lemon meringue pie in Patty’s face one time or another. I don’t have to live here. You do.”
Now or never. Remy sucked in a breath of hot, humid air about the same temperature as his fear of her rejecting his proposition. “I’d like you to move in with me, stay at the Black Box.”
“While the project is underway? I’m thinking this is going to take a full year to do right. That’s a long time to put up with me. Also, Sal and Sammy won’t like the idea. They’ll bring the motorhome over here as soon as Alleman is finished and stay on site. Todd is taking a break from grad school and wants see the restoration of the Queen through to the end for real practical experience. That means he’ll be bunking with the uncles. I might be able to rent a room from Mr. Getty for the duration.”
He understood her head remained in business mode. She’d covered the tight, stretchy red top with a baggy T-shirt in the truck, switched out those killer heels for sneakers, and gotten rid of the silver crucifix that dangled over him when she took her turn on top. How to take her a few hours back in time to the intimacy they’d shared this morning? Remy pushed her tablet and calculator aside and bent for a kiss. Though she accepted his lips on hers and leaned into his body, Julia shoved him back before he went any farther. “None of that on the job.”
“No one here to see us, and the job hasn’t started yet. I wanted to remind you of the chemistry we share. I meant stay with me permanently here in Chapelle. We’d see how we get along, move on to a deeper commitment, maybe merge our businesses.”
She laughed. Exactly the reaction he’d dreaded. “Oh, Remy, are you talking marriage way off in the distant future? I’m a city girl through and through, an Italian city girl. I don’t take crap from small town gossips like your grandmother very well. I’d never fit in here long term.”
“Patty wouldn’t let go of the fact that Celine Hartz had a child out of wedlock with Pammy’s son at the age of seventeen. He ran off and joined the Navy. No matter what Celine achieved, or how high she held her head, Patty kept the gossip going. Then, Celine married Jon. Now it’s won’t you come have coffee with us, Mrs. Hartz?”
“Does she?”
“No, but times have changed. The populace of Chapelle shrugs at illegitimate babies and cohabitation. It’s all too common now. No one will find our living together shocking.”
Julia shook her still unfettered hair. He yearned to touch it, smooth it, possess it, and all the rest of her. “Celine’s family goes way back here. She’d have outlasted the scandal. I’m an outsider. Always will be.”
“Okay. I’m no stranger to New Orleans.”
Her smile faded. Her eyes darkened with new knowledge. “You’d move to the city to be with me?”
“As soon as we complete our project here.”
“I’ll give it some thought. Marble finish for the ballroom, float finish for the lobby walls. Sound good?”
“It all sounds fine to me.”
****
As hot days often did, this one relaxed into balmy as evening came on fast. Since Julia hired well-recommended local painters and paperhangers for sheer practicality and to give a pop to the hometown economy, her workers arrived at dawn and knocked off at three when the interior became stifling, returning to their homes for lukewarm showers and hearty Cajun cooking.
On the back verandah, Julia, her uncles, Todd, and Remy sipped wine while Marv prepared to grill the fish, bone in, heads on, as Mrs. Nguyen always suggested. The chef declared this a celebration of the completion of the formal dining room and set an elegant table accordingly, but he did not want to sully the setting with the aroma of the main course to be served with a green apple slaw and twice-baked potatoes replete with bacon, cheese, and chives. Their host put out a tray of tomato-basil bruschetta and bowls of toasted, spiced pecans to tide them over until the meal as he hovered by the grill waiting for the exact right temperature to be reached for the quick cooking of the fish.
“Yeah, this is the life.” Sammy stretched out his hairy legs clad in Bermuda shorts and drove his hand into the nut bowl again.
“Same words you used when we went to Remy’s place,” Julia reminded him.
“Well, it is. No traffic noise or street crazies, just the bayou flowing by and mockingbirds singing in the live oaks. I could retire here, maybe in one of those condos Remy wants to build.”
“They will be built somewhere. I promise that,” Remy assured him as if the man were Old Broussard. “I’ll put you on the prospectus list.”
“Me, I could never leave the city, the old neighborhood,” Sal said, taking a gulp of red wine regardless of the notion that fish should be served with white.
“That’s what I said,” Julia let slip. She stared at her glass sure she shouldn’t have refilled it two and a half times. In wine, truth, the old saying went.
Todd caught on the fastest. “Regarding what?”
Do it now, she prompted herself. Perhaps, she’d been drinking for courage. “Remy asked me to stay with him while we restore the Queen.”
“That place only has the one bedroom.” Sal eyed Remy like a target for a nail g
un.
“Aw, come on, Jules is getting up there. Time she settled down with someone—as long as it leads to marriage in the end,” Sammy chipped in, having a more liberal view about sex and women in general.
“I think it’s a bad idea, mixing business and uh…” Todd petered out before he said the word. “I mean we should have a signed contract in case their relationship doesn’t work out.”
Sal pointed a thick finger at him. “You’re an apprentice. You got no opinions. You don’t like what Jules does, go back to school. But yeah, we need a contract before anyone moves anywhere. Got that, Remy?”
“Absolutely. How soon can we draw one up? I mean, my intentions toward Julia are completely honorable.” In the end, he went the old-fashioned route, Julia noticed.
“But he’s the—” Again, Todd bit off his word, in this case, enemy. Judging from the pinched expression on his narrow face, doing so left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Julia showed mercy and laid a gentle hand on his arm as he’d posted himself on her far side since Remy occupied the other. “We’re allies on this project now. All of us need to keep business separate from our personal lives.”
“Fish is ready,” Marv called from the yard as he laid their meal on a platter adorned with a bed of parsley and cherry tomatoes. “Bring the wine.”
He led the procession into the house and down the hall to the formal dining room. Todd bolted ahead on long legs to open the double doors.
“Ta-da!” Marv announced.
With the Corinthian molding picked out in gold and the walls papered in a period pattern that simulated arches rounding the room, the place did look magnificent. Each faux arch held a family portrait massively framed, not of Mr. Getty’s ancestors, but interesting faces he’d purchased in antique stores and at art auctions. Some appeared jovial, some very serious, a few looked down their long noses at Sal and Sammy in their shorts, Julia in the blue dress and sandals she’d worn when she first met Patty, Todd in his Regal Restorations khakis and knit shirt, and Remy still clad in chambray and jeans. Only Marv who served the fish onto gold-rimmed dishes with the aplomb of a fine butler seemed to pass muster. The apple slaw already occupied the salad plates and the twice-potatoes taken from the oven just prior to the grilling of the fish sat on the plates. Todd beat Remy in pulling out a chair for Julia.
