by Debra Webb
He forced himself to focus on the musical sound of her voice as she related the history behind each headstone. He did so enjoy listening to her talk. It made him feel as if he’d come home…reached some place that he was meant to be. This bond they’d shared as children was damn strong. Stronger than even he’d realized until this moment.
“They’ve filmed movies here,” she was saying. “You’ve probably seen at least one.”
“Probably,” he agreed, smiling to himself.
She glanced up at him and returned his smile. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
He looked past the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes and read the genuine curiosity. She wanted to understand this connection as well. She felt it, not quite so strongly as him, however.
“It’s difficult not to look at one so beautiful,” he said in all honesty. “I’ll try to resist the temptation.”
She laughed that pleasant sound that made him want to taste her lips to see if they tasted as good as they looked and sounded. Unexpected—everything about her was unexpected.
“If you’re trying to seduce me, Aidan, it’s working a little too well.” She stopped and looked into his eyes. “We just met,” she said carefully. “This is moving a little too fast for me.”
“Then we’ll slow things down.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and it took all the willpower he possessed not to kiss her. Her mouth looked full and soft, the bottom lip heavier, poutier. “You set the pace, Darby Shepard.”
She nodded, her gaze now focused on his lips. She wanted to kiss him as well. He could feel her desire, could feel her heated blood coursing through her veins. She wanted more than just to kiss him.
A new kind of tension quickened inside him. A warning. His head came up and his gaze narrowed as he surveyed the ancient cemetery. He felt another’s presence…felt him watching. He was not so close, but close enough.
“Maybe we can finish this tour another time. It’s late.” He infused the offer with a smile. “I’ll walk you home.”
She nodded, the confusion in her eyes telling him that she’d felt the shift in the atmosphere as well. Felt the presence of the enemy without comprehending the full implications.
She might not have honed her skills as he had over the past sixteen years, but she was undeniably a seer.
When the gates were closed once more, Darby pushed her bike as she walked alongside Aidan. For the third time tonight, she felt someone watching her. Funny she hadn’t sensed Aidan’s presence until he was only a few feet away. Though she supposed it could have been him she felt watching her as she closed up after the tour, she didn’t think so. Some part of her recognized him on a very basic level. The other presence had been unfamiliar…unsettling…like the one she was picking up on right now.
With Aidan at her side, she wasn’t actually afraid. She felt secure with him. Still, she didn’t like this feeling of being watched. She wondered somewhere in the back of her mind if the police had someone watching her. Maybe she would call Detective Willis and ask that very question.
As they left the cemetery behind, the din of Friday night revelers in the distance grew louder. Jazz moaned woefully from a club just one street over. A few blocks away, strip bars and clubs hosting costume parties would be in full swing. The crowd on the sidewalk and in the streets grew thicker and rowdier. This was part of what she loved about New Orleans. It was a city full of life. Even the dead seemed to generate some sort of energy.
She suddenly realized that she hadn’t even thought of Lester. The images she’d kept seeing were gone. Maybe it was over. Though she felt terrible for the parents of those children whose bodies were still missing, at least their killer was behind bars and would be punished for his terrible sins.
His reign of terror was over. She’d helped to end it. The price had been high, but she would do it again if only to save a single child.
When they reached the gate to the courtyard of the place she currently called home, Aidan used his keycard and opened it for her. He’d offered to push her bike but she preferred to do it herself. It gave her something to do with her hands, rather than the carnal thoughts her mind had conjured. She kept wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair or to touch his chest. Or those mile wide shoulders.
She sighed. The man was simply every woman’s fantasy wrapped in sleek black.
The sensation of being watched had melted blocks ago, or maybe the heat he emanated had distracted her. Whatever the case, she was glad she no longer had that icky feeling. She parked her bike in an out-of-the-way corner of the lobby and locked it. No need to lug it up to the third floor.
He followed her into the lift and closed the gate that served as a door. She pressed the button for Floor Three and the rickety old elevator shuddered into movement. Her companion chose to lean against the wall farthest from her so that he could stare at her, apparently. She crossed her arms over her chest and surveyed the ancient elevator. It was nothing fancy, but she appreciated its antiquity. Except tonight her preoccupation was to keep her eyes busy…and off the man who did strange things to her sensibilities.
“My admiration disturbs you?” he inquired, seemingly sincere.
She chewed her lower lip and tried to think of a witty comeback. “Well, disturb isn’t quite the word. It makes me uncomfortable.”
He shifted his gaze immediately. “I’ll remember that.”
She shook her head and tried to find logic in this crazy attraction. How could he come out of nowhere and sweep her off her feet so completely?
She didn’t even know him.
She exhaled a tension-filled breath. But Lord have mercy, she was attracted to him.
At her door he hesitated. “Good night, Darby Shepard,” he said softly, his gaze once again falling on hers.
“Good night, Aidan…?” She lifted a skeptical brow. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“Tanner,” he told her. “Aidan Tanner.”
She reached for his hand and shook it. “Well, good night, Aidan Tanner.”
His fingers closed firmly around her hand as he lifted it to his mouth and brushed the barest hint of a kiss across her knuckles. “Until tomorrow.”
And then he was gone.
His apartment door closed behind him.
Darby was still trying to get her heart out of her throat when she locked her own door behind her. This just couldn’t be real. No way could he be real.
She stripped off her clothes as she headed toward her bathroom. Guys like him just didn’t exist. She pushed the drain plug into place and turned the water in the big old claw-footed tub to hot. A long, hot bath was in order.
The few minutes she took to scrub her face clean and to floss and brush her teeth was all the time required for the tub to fill. She added a couple of drops of rose oil and gathered two big, fluffy towels. Every woman deserved this kind of bath after a long day. She couldn’t help wishing she had a tub like this back at her apartment.
It might not be a whirlpool, but it was so deep that the water enveloped her clear up to her neck. The heat permeated her, immediately driving away the tension, forcing her muscles to relax.
“God, this feels good,” she murmured.
She closed her eyes and leaned back, relaxing fully. Without an exhaust fan, the bathroom filled with steam, making it as foggy as the cemetery had been tonight.
Thinking of the cemetery made her think of Aidan.
Now whenever she thought of him, she would immediately associate him with heat and silk, shadows and fog. Her feminine muscles pulsed, flexing and contracting with want. The man completely devastated her…on far too many levels. He made her hot just looking at him. And the sound of his voice…how could any man’s voice flow so slow and deep, sliding over her skin like warm honey?
Her nipples pebbled and her breasts hardened, ached for his touch. Hmmm. She smiled and imagined those long fingers stroking her skin. Heat swirled deep inside her.
The water felt so g
ood, so welcoming.
She didn’t want to move, just wanted to keep thinking of him…of how it would feel to have him in this massive tub with her. A new kind of awareness went through her at the remembered feel of his lips on her skin when he’d kissed her hand.
Her mind conjured the image of him coming toward her, through the mist and steam rising around her. He slipped beneath the water, his hot, smooth flesh sliding against hers, creating a sensual friction that made her pulse leap and her heart pound. He was against her and all around her at once, shrouding her like steel encased in silk. Music, so soft it could have come from within her—the beat could have been her pulse—swirled around her, filled her. She felt his lips on her heated skin. She gasped, clutched at the sides of the tub as those hungry lips moved down her body, tantalizing her flesh. Her name whispered through her mind…the sound his voice. The touch all around her…his touch. Tighter and tighter, desire coiled inside her. Her breath grew ragged and her hips writhed beneath the water, beneath the weight of his presence.
She came. It pulsed deep inside her, throbbed through her soul and wrenched a cry from her throat.
For long minutes, she couldn’t move, couldn’t open her eyes. She could only lie there, sated and utterly vulnerable.
Slowly she became aware of a change, a shift in the atmosphere of the room.
His essence was gone.
She opened her eyes and the spell was broken.
The water that had felt so hot a second ago was cold, making her shiver uncontrollably. The steam and mist that had filled the room had dissipated.
She watched a bead of moisture slide down the mirror as her heart rate returned to normal.
It had felt so real…as if he’d been right here with her.
She pushed up out of the cold water and shook off the crazy notion.
Just a dream.
She’d likely drifted off to sleep and dreamed of him. He’d been on her mind, had gotten her all hot and bothered tonight. That’s all it could be.
As the tub drained, she dried her hair and skin, all the while chastising herself for getting so hung up on her new neighbor. A distraction was one thing, but this fantasizing went way beyond a mere distraction.
Not bothering to dry her hair, she wrapped a towel around it and wandered into her bedroom. She was beat. She’d deal with bed head in the morning.
As she drew the covers back she couldn’t help thinking of her neighbor just on the other side of that wall. Before she could stop herself, she’d walked over to the wall that stood between them and placed her hand there. Just like last night, it felt hot to the touch. She frowned, shook her head and touched it again. Cool plaster greeted her this time.
Her imagination, she assured herself. She had to get this silly infatuation out of her head.
Aidan was just a guy.
A handsome one, admittedly, but just a guy.
She had enough troubles right now without borrowing more.
Tomorrow, she would begin the search for a new job. She couldn’t stay unemployed forever. Though she had fair-sized savings and her parents’ home, that was no excuse to sit around and feel sorry for herself.
Work. She needed work.
Clearly a distraction with her new neighbor wasn’t the proper therapy for her just now.
No matter how right it felt.
Chapter Six
“Ms. Shepard, your résumé looks excellent.”
Darby held her breath. Please let him say yes.
The administrator for the Riverwalk Preschool looked at her over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I appreciate your candor regarding your current dilemma with the media. I am quite aware of the circumstances.”
The air evacuated her lungs on a weary sigh. Here it came. The kiss of death. She was qualified—overqualified—but the preschool simply wouldn’t be able to tolerate the negative notoriety.
“I see no reason why such unfair circumstances should keep a good teacher out of work.”
Relief, so profound it made her feel momentarily faint, rushed through her veins. She had a job!
“Thank you, Mr. Wesley. I really love working with children.”
He smiled. “I can see that.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost noon and our small Saturday group will be leaving. How about you begin Monday morning. Eight o’clock?”
She nodded. “That’s perfect.” She stood and offered her hand. “Thank you so much, Mr. Wesley. I appreciate your confidence.”
“I’ll give you a quick tour of our facility on your way out,” he offered.
Most of the children were gone already, but Darby got to meet two that would be in her weekday class. The preschool offered preparatory classes Monday through Friday, from 7:30 until 3:30. An evening day care continued from three until six. Then on Saturdays, from nine until noon, a mothers’ morning out drop-off was offered for those who couldn’t manage to shop and keep up with kids at the same time.
The atmosphere was very inviting, family-oriented. Darby felt comfortable immediately. She met three other teachers who, like her, had a primary education degree. Every instinct told her that this would be a perfect fit. The preschool was close enough to home that she could ride her bike or the streetcar. Its focus was on preparing the children for elementary school.
It was perfect.
Darby left the preschool and walked along Canal Street. She hadn’t bothered with her bike since it was such a lovely morning. The air had been fresh and crisp. Even now, at quarter of twelve, it wasn’t too warm.
She surveyed the busy sidewalks filled with tourists and shoppers. The buzz of excitement that defined New Orleans felt thick in the air. Jazz notes wafted from the horn of a lone sax player hoping to make a few bucks on a street corner this morning. Darby paused and tossed a dollar into the open instrument case at his feet. He nodded, never missing a note, and she smiled, grateful for the day…for her new job.
And for her new temporary neighbor.
She gave herself a little mental shake as she continued to meander through the crowd. She hadn’t seen him this morning. His presence, though, had been palpable. He was at home, she’d felt certain. Maybe still sleeping when she left for her interview at 10:30, though she didn’t take him for one to waste such a beautiful day in bed. Unless he had the proper motivation. Instantly, the image of the two of them naked and in his bed flashed in her mind.
Okay, Darby, focus. The man was not some sex object whose sole purpose was to fuel her fantasies. Nor was he a stray puppy to be cuddled and taken in without question. Especially considering what she’d just been through with a killer. She, of all people, knew what man was capable of.
That she felt no fear of Aidan Tanner unsettled her.
Not that she generally walked around suspicious, but she’d always been cautious. Her parents had raised her to be smart and levelheaded when it came to men and life in general. Sometimes she wondered if her cautious nature had something to do with the dreams about the men in white coats.
A chill raced across her skin even as she allowed the thought. Her parents had adopted her when she was ten, but her memories prior to that were sketchy at best. She vaguely remembered school…somewhere. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t dredge up any recollection of her biological parents, though she’d seen pictures of them. There was a close bond of some sort from that time. She remembered it…still sensed it. With her parents, she presumed. The lingering memory of that connection made her feel safe sometimes in the middle of the night when she felt all alone.
She missed the Shepards. They’d been such good people, had loved her as their own. She wondered why it wasn’t the bond she’d experienced with them that made her feel safe in moments of personal indecision or crisis. Why some almost forgotten connection with a person or persons she didn’t even remember?
Darby suddenly stopped in the middle of the block and looked around. She blinked, utterly surprised, then smiled. She was out in public and no one had approached. No cameras were snapping a
way, no dogged reporters were following her. Could it possibly be over?
She looked heavenward then and thanked God for yet another blessing.
Maybe she really would get her life back now.
Not willing to take any unnecessary chances on being spotted by any loitering paparazzi, Darby took a side street that was a bit off the beaten path. She ignored the couple arguing in a doorway as she passed. Paid no attention to what looked like a gang hanging out on the corner with a boom box blaring the latest rap chart hit.
This was New Orleans. Nothing was out of place; nothing surprised longtime residents. She just kept marching forward, head held high, shoulders squared, showing no fear. This was her home, same as for those who loved to intimidate. Catcalls and whistles echoed behind her as she moved past the gang of what her mother would have called thugs. Probably just young guys with nothing else to do.
She crossed the street to the next block which was tree-lined to the point of near darkness. She refused to allow the uneasiness to take root as she pushed forward, moving out of the warm sunlight and into the ominous shadows. Ancient houses sat so close together that hardly a sprig of grass separated them. Each had its own little postage-stamp front yard that consisted mainly of huge old oak trees which canopied the sidewalk and street like a protective awning.
Only another block or so and she’d hit St. Charles and the generous sunlight the October sky offered. As she passed an alley between two shops, someone called her name. She hesitated, frowned. At least she thought she’d heard her name called. Maybe it was her imagination. She stepped closer to the alley and peered into the dark passage. A Dumpster. Garbage cans. Not much else. A cat hissed and jumped down from an open can, leaving whatever treasures it contained to two other, more aggressive felines sitting atop it, tails twitching.
Darby Shepard. The whispered words feathered across her nerve endings, making her shiver.
She moved closer still, cocking her head, listening, watching, for any sound…any movement.
