Peering down, she saw beneath her rainbow-colored clouds of fish, every hue from purple to yellow. Not even natural, but Bella let that slide. It was a dream after all. She knew because she could breathe fine and yet had no dive gear on. Frankly, she was surprised she wasn’t nude.
She kicked hard and swam down toward the schools of fish that seemed like an ever-shifting Möbius strip of color and flashes of silver as they moved. As she came closer, she recognized they were cavorting over a wreck nestled in the sand at the bottom. The fish parted for her as she neared them, then, rather than scattering like they should, closed back together after she passed. There beneath her laid the wreck, not covered in layer after layer of sediment, but exposed and dark, the jagged beams of the hull poking up and the copper bottom a pale green patina. All across the sandy floor lay bottles and dishes. There was a table with two chairs set upright as if they’d been placed there, with two full place settings of china and what looked like a bottle of wine.
Definitely a dream.
The fish that formed a colorful bubble of sorts around the wreck parted once more, and Bella saw Tuck swimming down to her, his hand outstretched. He wasn’t wearing any dive gear either. Two fish, one black and one white, had separated from the colorful cloud and followed him. When he stopped, they paired up, swimming closer and closer to one another, like they were playing tag, chasing each other’s tails in an endless circle. He didn’t speak, but instead held out his hand. The spinning fish moved to hover over his palm, moving faster and faster until they became a blur and transformed into a sparkling sphere. Her pulse did a quick uptick as she recognized it as a crystal ball.
For you. Somehow he said the words in her head. She reached for the sphere, to take it from him. The moment she touched it she became locked to it. Apparently so was he; neither of them moved. She looked down and found that now, of all times, she’d decided to make clothing optional in her dream state. But then her dream did the same to Tuck, which wasn’t such a bad thing.
He pulled her close, their hands still connected to the crystal sphere, their bare limbs sliding against each other in the water. Tuck used his free hand to pull her close, pressing her breasts against his bare chest. His mouth lowered to hers in a kiss that stripped away every other thought except how good he felt against her.
The next thing she knew, she woke with a start as the beeping sound of the boom crane blared outside. Bella rubbed her eyes and cursed under her breath. “Why do I always get woken up right when it gets good?” She yawned and ran her fingers through her hair, then stood up and headed out of the conference room to the rear deck.
Antoine may make a great sandwich, but she had to remember not to fall asleep on egg salad and pickles again if she wanted to sleep well. She hadn’t had such an intense dream in years. Bella shaded her eyes from the sun, long enough to slip on her sunglasses.
Tucker had taken his shirt off. She hadn’t seen him bared to the waist before, but the muscular structure that his fitted T-shirts had hinted at had been very misleading. He was not just ripped but rock-hard, cut, and gorgeous. His skin was molten bronze painted over sleek muscle. A dusting of dark hair at the low waistband of his shorts hinted at what lay beneath. He could easily make it as an extra in the next Magic Mike movie. Reality far outpaced what he’d looked like in her dream.
She swallowed hard, past the pounding of her heart that had somehow taken up residence in her throat and squeezed her thighs together to stave off the ache building there. Maybe she’d gone too long without a release. Maybe she was still amped up because of the dream. Maybe Tucker was not just hotter than any guy she’d ever dated, but way hotter. The wind caught his longish hair, blowing it back, and for a moment he looked like a pirate, laughing with a crew member as he slapped him on the shoulder.
He turned, and she saw a flash of dark and light on his shoulder, and suddenly the air was sucked from her lungs. How had she not seen the tattoo before? Curious she walked closer to him.
His shoulders stiffened slightly. “So was the show as exciting as I promised?” he asked, his tone casual.
“How many did we put down there?”
“Enough to cover the whole site in a one-by-one meter grid.”
“No wonder it took so long.”
One brow rose over his vivid blue eyes, and his all-too-kissable mouth she’d been kissing in her dreams drew her attention. “Not everything worth doing results in instant gratification. Sometimes the waiting makes it better.”
Her stomach tightened. The heat rolling off him and the scent of sunscreen on his skin was enough to put her off kilter, but her curiosity wouldn’t be denied. He could sure do some damage to your heart, girl. “I see you have ink on your shoulder. I tend to notice it since my aunt is in the trade. Can I take a better look?”
“Sure.” He turned around. Up close, the swirl of black and white of the two koi fish forming the yin yang on his well-defined, broad shoulder was spectacular. The scales of the black fish were shaded with blues and purples so they appeared iridescent like a raven’s wing, while the white fish had bits of coral and yellow shading that made it seem both warm and alive. Both were intricate in the detailing. Beautiful. She studied the detail, running her finger along the edge of the design, wishing she had the guts to feel his whole gorgeous arm. And then it hit her like a shot between the eyes. She knew that style, that flow of line—this was, without a doubt, her aunt’s work.
Even though she’d never seen Tuck’s tattoo, it was vividly familiar. It was the fish in her dream. Her heart beat a little harder. What did it mean? Had this all been a set up between him and Aunt Min? How well did her aunt already know Tuck? Was her dream a warning or an invitation?
“Looks like Aunt Min’s work.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because it is.”
“Did you get it that day I bumped into you?”
He nodded.
All her defenses were up in an instant. “Is this why you were at Inkspell that day? Or was it to get some information on me and find out what I knew about the wreck?”
He turned, so close to her that she could see the individual golden bits of stubble on his face and caught a whiff of the sunshine, salt spray, and something potently male that cloaked his skin and made her shiver. “I was there for the ink. A buddy of mine recommended her. Bumping into you happened to be a perk.”
“Did she know you were in on this recovery project?”
He shrugged. “I think I may have mentioned I was in town for a new job. In all honesty, we talked more about you. She did mention you seem to have horrible taste in men.”
Bella frowned, her shoulders growing tense. “Well, she’s hardly one to talk. It seems like a family trait.” He might bring up Phillip, and she didn’t want to talk about her incredibly stupid decision to trust him.
“It’s obvious your aunt loves you,” he said.
Whoa. Not what she’d expected. She relaxed slightly, but there was no way to completely relax around Tucker. Everything about him constantly kept her on edge and off balance. She was the kind of person who did best being completely grounded, black and white. No gray. And yet everything about him made it impossible for her to keep her equilibrium.
He waited for her to say something, anything, after her touch had pierced straight through him. Just a simple unintentional caress, a sample of her light citrus scent, and his junk was ready to go on a rampage. What the hell was it about her that had the ability to knock him senseless?
There was a pause in their conversation as she looked out over the water. She sighed, throwing a sideways glance at him. “I’m going to head back to shore this weekend.”
“Permanently?”
“No, for the weekend. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I don’t want to get rid of you.” I only want to alleviate this irrational and unwelcome attraction I have for you. Maybe a few days apart would do just that.
He shifted his weight from one f
oot to another trying to alleviate the physical discomfort she caused him by her mere presence.
“Since our dinner the other night didn’t work out so well, why don’t you come by my aunt’s for dinner?”
Interesting. A change of heart? He doubted it. She wouldn’t be taking him to have family dinner if she’d changed her mind about sleeping with him. “You aren’t cooking, are you?”
She smiled. “Nah. My aunt is making Sunday dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Doc. I don’t want to intrude on your family.”
“Don’t take it too personally. I was being something we southerners like to call polite.”
He winced. “Ouch. That was a backhanded invitation.”
Bella shrugged. “Whatever you chant, whatever you brew, sooner or later comes back to you.”
He launched into a coughing fit.
“You okay?”
“Chant? Brew? You sure your aunt isn’t taking a little voodoo work on the side of her tattoo business?”
“I try not to delve too deeply into what Aunt Min does or doesn’t do. We have an understanding. She doesn’t dig in my graveyard, and I don’t dig in hers.”
“I take it neither of you have skeletons in your closets then,” he said with as straight a face as he could manage in the weird conversation.
Bella rolled her eyes. “It’s Louisiana humor. Sorry. I forget myself sometimes, and I know it makes no sense to a Yankee.”
Tuck’s intuition was screaming at him now, telling him the not so subtle jabs she was taking were a defense mechanism as much as a warning. Bella had walls up. Thick ones. Why, he didn’t know, but he was dying to find out. His damnable Piscean curiosity was going to be the death of him one day.
Chapter Seven
The Dupré house nestled in the heart of the French Quarter on Governor Nicholls Street. Its solid white-painted brick facade sat cheek-to-cheek with the buildings on either side and flush against the sidewalk. Tuck figured that, other than a coat of paint now and then, it hadn’t changed all that much in the last one hundred and fifty years.
Dark forest green wooden-slated shutters covered the long, narrow windows at street level. The closed shutters formed a protective barrier against the curious gazes of people wandering this stretch of the Quarter. A delicate, lace-like wrought iron balcony stretched out over the sidewalk, offering shade from the late-afternoon heat.
“Are you sure we aren’t here too early?”
“She said dinner on Sunday, which means be here at four forty-five because we’re sitting down at five p.m. sharp,” Bella said as she walked confidently up the street from where they’d parked.
The unassuming dark green front door, with its black, wrought iron knocker led into a white marble hallway flanked by pale lemon-colored walls. A staircase, bracketed on either side by feathery green palms in white pots, spun upward to the right. “This way. Aunt Min will be in the kitchen.”
Tuck followed Bella down the long marbled hallway in front of them until they veered off to the left. Min was in the kitchen putting food out on platters.
She turned as she heard them enter. “Good, you’re here! Grab a plate, and follow me into the dining room.” Neither of them hesitated to scoop up the dishes and follow her through the swinging door.
Enormous mirrors, which stretched from nearly floor to ceiling in ornate gilt frames, lined the left side of the room. A row of French doors flanked them on the right, opening out into a courtyard where palm fronds and bright fuchsia-colored bougainvillea fluttered in the breeze and a fountain bubbled happily.
They sat down at a small table decked out in linen and fine china that was dwarfed by the size of the room. “You’ll have to excuse the table,” Min said as she snapped her linen napkin and placed it in her lap. “We sold the dining room set several years ago, but with just me and Bella, it seemed silly to keep a table that could sit twenty.”
He realized what hadn’t been said, that the dining room set had probably been sold for a good deal of money when they’d needed it, but he gave her a smile all the same. “Dinner looks and smells fantastic.”
A slight pink color blossomed on Min’s cheeks. “I don’t often get to cook for company.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Bella said. “She always cooks like this on Sundays. I’m spoiled.”
He laughed. “I don’t think our chef can compare to your aunt.”
Bella shook her head. “Aunt Min’s cooking is fantastic, but don’t sell Chef Antoine short. He’s amazing.” She looked at her aunt. “I think you’d like him. He’s got a special gift with food for thought.”
Tucker listened to them talk as he ate. The roasted chicken, sharp with the smell of rosemary, the creamy potatoes rich with butter and sour cream, and thin green beans sprinkled with crispy bits of bacon and smothered in garlic and olive oil made his mouth water. Bella and Min chatted away, and Min poured them all a glass of wine. Honestly, he was too busy enjoying the food on his plate to worry much about joining the conversation.
“You know, there’s a curse on this family,” Min said, heaping another spoonful of potatoes on her plate and trying to draw him into their discussion. “Did Bella ever tell you about it?”
He glanced at Bella and she rolled her eyes and shook her head, even though her lips curved. “Ignore her,” she mumbled.
Tuck couldn’t help himself. Min had awakened his curiosity, and it wouldn’t rest. “Curse, huh? That explains some lingering questions.”
Bella gasped and prodded him with her elbow. He laughed in response.
“It all started when the sea captain of the ship you’re salvaging, Pierre Dupré, was caught up in a marriage he couldn’t stomach. He had a dark mistress, not uncommon in those days, but it angered his wife, and she made things miserable for the girl. She didn’t know the girl’s mother was kin to a voodoo priestess of some regard. Story is, she put a curse on the Dupré family that no man would last with a Dupré woman in his bed.”
“So you’re telling me there’s a history of erectile dysfunction in the family?”
Min laughed. “No, sorry, it would be easier if that were the case. No, they either leave, or they die. Either way, they don’t stay long.”
Interesting, and certainly supported his Venus flytrap theory about love. Maybe he was blowing this out of proportion. While he knew he could be perfectly comfortable having a physically satisfying relationship with no strings attached, he knew Bella wasn’t into scratching an itch and moving on. She wanted to entangle herself in someone’s life, like kudzu winding with tenacious vines that overtook everything. The problem was, as long as they were in close quarters together on ship, he was sorely tempted to seduce her anyway.
“Is this really suitable dining room conversation?” Bella said pointing a fork at her aunt. “I remember someone who would have made me go wash my mouth out with soap for bringing up death and voodoo in the same conversation at Sunday dinner.”
Min picked up her glass of red wine and took a healthy swallow. “True, but your grand-mère, God rest her soul, isn’t here, and he might as well know the challenge he’s in for.”
“Oh, I don’t think Tuck is planning on sticking around long after the salvage is finished,” Bella said.
Tuck chuckled. “It’s only a challenge if you accept to run the gauntlet.”
“Also true.” Min saluted him with her glass and took another drink.
“For curiosity’s sake, how is the curse supposed to be broken? There’s always a way break these kinds of things, isn’t there?” he asked.
Min circled her finger around her crystal glass making it ring out a clear, pure note. “As a matter of fact, there is. And I suspect it’s part of the reason our Bella is so keen on finding the treasure Captain Dupré lost so long ago.”
He glanced at Bella, and she raised one dark, sleek brow in challenge.
“Really? Tell me more, because I think she neglected to mention it on her initial report on the ship.”
“Oh, it wasn’t any crystal ball,” Min said, refilling all of their glasses. “According to the legend, it was made from a fist-sized diamond.”
This time his mouth dropped open. A diamond as big as his fist? Was she kidding? If the story was true, it would be worth millions. Now Bella’s interest made sense. She was practical and logical after all. With something that valuable waiting to be claimed, his interest in the wreck took on a new depth. If he could secure the diamond crystal ball, he would have the means to buy out the McCormack company holdings outright, rather than take it down piece by piece as he acquired the funds.
Bella’s gaze connected with his. “Now you know why there was no reason to mention this silly family story. It’s highly unlikely that this thing—if there was even a crystal ball in the first place—was a diamond. And if it was, it’s probably not even down there anyway.”
“But what if it is?” he said pointedly. “Were you hoping I’d mistake it for a run-of-the-mill historical find?”
Bella leaned back in her chair her expression turning sour. “Crystal ball is on the list I gave you. Look it up. It’s not like I’ve hidden this away from you.”
“But you still don’t trust me,” he shot back. “Not enough to tell me this side of the story, anyway.”
She shrugged. “No, I don’t trust it enough to base my professional career on it. I’m a scientist and historian. It’s a family fairy tale. Who’s to say it’s even real? Maybe the mistress made it up to scare men away from the Dupré widow.”
Her Sworn Enemy (Men of the Zodiac) Page 8
