by Eve Gaddy
He was in earnest. Whatever she believed, Murray believed he was in love with her.
“You know I care about you. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. And I never will be. I just don’t feel that way about you, Murray.”
“You might. If you’d allow yourself to think about it. All I’m asking is that you give us a chance.”
She didn’t want to lose his friendship. She had no desire to hurt him, either. But she saw no point in giving him hope when she knew for a fact she wouldn’t change her mind. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
He looked at her for what felt like a long moment. “There’s nothing more to say, is there?” Then he turned his back and walked out the door.
Had she lost a friend, or would he get over it? His behavior had been so out of character. What had really happened to set him off? Had it been Nick…or something else?
WHEN HIS CELL PHONE RANG, Nick didn’t need caller ID to know who it was. The timing was too perfect. “Hello, Casey.”
“You were right.”
Something else he’d been sure of. Murray had looked like he wanted to take Nick apart. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. But Nick wasn’t certain of Casey’s reaction. Had she told Murray to forget it, or had she decided to give him a chance? And if she had, where did that leave Nick? Why did it matter to him? He didn’t plan to stick around Louisiana forever. Why shouldn’t Casey find happiness with a man who would?
“You sound upset. Are you all right?”
“No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’m a little freaked out. I had no idea he felt that way.”
“But now you do. So, did you call me to tell me to forget it?” It shocked him to realize just how much he didn’t want to hear that she’d decided she wanted Murray. Just how much he didn’t want to envision Casey Fontaine with another man.
“Of course not.” She sounded surprised. “I told you, Murray’s a friend.”
“Knowing how he feels might change your mind.”
“It won’t. Nick, what are you saying here? Have you changed your mind about—about us?”
“No way, sweetheart.” Not a chance in hell. But he owed her honesty. “But I won’t be here for long. If you think you could be happy with him—”
“I’m not good at games. Is this some clever way of dumping me? Before we even get started?”
“No. I was trying to be noble.” Stupid idea, that.
Casey laughed. Nick liked her laugh. It was throaty and full and very sexy.
“Well, don’t,” she said. “Now can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. What do you want to talk about?” Nick sat on the couch, picked up a glass of water and took a swallow.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “Phone sex.”
He choked. “What did you say?”
She laughed. “Sorry, I just wanted to get your mind on something besides my problems with Murray.”
“Honey, you sure as hell accomplished that.”
She laughed again, husky, sexy, inviting. “Good. That was the idea.” The smooth, whiskey sound of her voice was enticing as hell. He groaned and closed his eyes. “I could be over there in five minutes. No, make that three minutes.”
“That sounds tempting,” she said, her voice regretful.
“Tempting—but the answer is still no?”
She hesitated. “I wish…I’m just not used to moving this fast.”
“I know.” And he needed to back off. He wanted her intrigued, not frightened. He would survive. He could wait. Probably.
“Tell me something, Casey. Is your hair down?”
“What is this obsession you have with my hair?”
“I wouldn’t call it an obsession. More like a fantasy. Is it down?”
“Yes. I don’t sleep with it tied back.”
He groaned silently, every muscle in his body tightening at the image of her hair spread out over her shoulders, dark against the creamy skin.
“I have to admit, I have an obsession about you, too. Or a fantasy.”
“You’re killing me, Casey.” And he had a feeling she damn well knew it.
“For me, it’s your voice,” she said, her own dreamy. “It’s just so…luscious. So deep. Smooth. Rich. Sometimes I can almost feel it touching me.”
It took some time before he could speak. “You’re a very dangerous woman, Casey Fontaine.” If she could turn him inside out over the phone, what would she be like in the flesh?
“Am I?” She sounded pleased.
“Trust me on this. You definitely are.”
“Good. I like the sound of that. And Nick? I think you’re dangerous, too.”
He laughed. “Tell me more.”
“You gave me flowers.”
“That makes me dangerous?”
“I’m not a girly girl. Men don’t give me flowers. But you knew. You knew exactly how to get to me.”
“You may not be a girly girl, but believe me, Casey, you’re all woman.”
The question was, was he man enough to hang on to her?
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS FUN, Casey discovered over the next few days, not to worry about the future. To take pleasure in the present. More fun than she’d had in a long, long time. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself with Nick? She was contemplating a fling, nothing more serious than that. Not every relationship had to have marriage in mind. Considering what had happened the last time she’d been serious about a man, she wasn’t eager to try it again. Which made Nick perfect.
In the past week she’d only seen him once, very briefly. His time had been taken up with all the last-minute details of the upcoming opening. And since it was the beginning of the harvest, Casey had been unusually busy with the cane. Not to mention, she’d been keeping an eye on the renovations. Luckily for her, Adam was very capable and didn’t need her butting into his business. His occasional questions weren’t hard to handle.
Not so Aunt Esme. Casey had been avoiding her as much as possible, both because she didn’t want a lecture about Nick, and because every time she did see her aunt, Esme complained about the noise the workers made. Since Casey couldn’t do a thing to change that, she figured the less she saw of Esme, the better.
But she and Nick had talked on the phone nightly, sometimes for hours. She figured the lack of sleep was a small price to pay.
Their conversations had covered every possible topic. Nick loved traveling and could tell stories for hours about the places he’d been. The people he’d met came alive for her when he talked. She’d never known a man with such a genius for meeting and describing interesting people. To someone who rarely left her hometown, it was fascinating. And so was he, she thought.
Oddly enough, her limited experience didn’t seem to bore him. He asked her about the sugar industry, freely admitting he didn’t know much, though Casey thought he knew more than most outsiders. He liked to ask her searching questions that made her really think about the answers.
Talking wasn’t all he did. Every couple of days, she’d come home from work to a phone call asking if flowers could be delivered. The first time, he sent tiger lilies, bold, beautiful and exotic. The next time, two dozen long-stemmed white roses, every bloom exquisite. A variety of orchids came after that. At night when she talked to him, she’d tell him to stop, but secretly, she couldn’t wait to see what else he would send. She couldn’t help but think of him, either, surrounded by the gorgeous colors and the delicious smells of the blooms.
It surprised her, how much she liked it. She was enchanted, to tell the truth. She’d never wanted to be treated like a Southern belle. The opposite, in fact. She’d gone out of her way to make sure everyone knew she was tough. She was Duke Fontaine’s daughter, after all.
But Nick saw past all that, to the very feminine side of her that she sometimes forgot existed. For a woman who’d never really been romanced, it was a novel, and exciting, experience.
She answer
ed the door late Wednesday afternoon to find yet another offering. This time, he’d given her a plant, a giant shell-pink ginger lily from Hawaii, the card said. It was breathtakingly lovely and, she suspected, rare. Her pleasure at the gift warred with her guilt over what he was spending on her. She didn’t take time to read all the literature that came with it. Instead, she called Nick.
“Nick, are you crazy? This is costing you a fortune.”
“Did you get the ginger lily?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I got it, all right. Nick, the deliveryman said it was shipped here directly from Hawaii.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding distracted. “Hold on a minute.” When he came back on the line he said, “It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet. You can get flowers from all over the world.”
All over the world? Good Lord, next he’d be sending stuff from Thailand or Madagascar or who knew what other exotic locale? Casey paced a few steps to look at the plant. Large pink shell-like blossoms grew on tall spikes. The leaves, pleated, soft and velvety, only added to the beauty.
“You can’t keep doing this. I want you to stop.”
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I like it! It’s stunning. But you’re spending too much money on me.”
He chuckled at that. “Relax, Casey. I won’t beggar myself sending you a few flowers.”
A few flowers, she thought, glancing around at the vases sitting on every table, was the understatement of the decade. And now he’d started on plants. She looked at the ginger lily again, leaned closer to smell the blossoms, and nearly moaned at the luscious scent. Casey took a deep breath and confessed, “I can’t grow plants.”
“Of course you can grow plants. You’re a farmer.”
“I’m also a houseplant assassin. Ask anyone who knows me. I even kill ivy. This thing is rare and exotic and needs special care. It won’t last a day.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Afraid not. Casey’s black thumb is a running joke in the family.”
“Try keeping it in your greenhouse. That ought to be the ideal place for it.” He paused, spoke to someone. “Sorry, I’ve got to go in a minute. A worker fell off a ladder and swears he broke his leg and is suing.”
“Oh, no. Go see about him.”
“I will, but I suspect he’s faking it. One of the waitresses just told me she’s seen him run this scam three times. He’ll keep.” He paused, then said, “Have lunch with me tomorrow. At Brew-Bachers.”
It would be hard to get away, but the local bar and grill was one of her favorite places. “It sounds tempting, but I’m not sure I can take off work.”
He made a smacking noise, and she laughed. “How can you turn down the best po’boys in Baton Rouge? Besides, I haven’t seen you in days.”
To hell with it. She’d make time. “You’re on. I’ll meet you at noon.”
“Great. See you then.”
“Wait, before you go, Nick, have I thanked you for the plant?”
“No, you’ve been too busy yelling at me. And Casey? Don’t worry. If it dies I’ll get you another one.”
He hung up before she could respond.
BREW-BACHERS was a Baton Rouge institution. It wasn’t much to look at, with red vinyl booths along the wall, red-and-white checked vinyl tablecloths and menus written on three big chalkboards hanging above the counter near the entrance. Baseballs lined a shelf behind the bar, and since football season had just started, a board with stats for Louisiana State University was also displayed. Everybody loved the place, from businessmen to the college crowd.
Nick was waiting outside when she arrived, standing beneath the red neon beer sign covering most of the window.
“Hi, I’m not late, am I?” she asked.
“No, I was early.” He smiled and took her arm, holding open the door for her.
“You are a bad man, you know,” she complained as they walked up to the counter to order. “All I thought about all morning was the shrimp po’boy. I’m starving.”
Nick ordered a soft-shell crab po’boy and they took their drinks to a booth by the window. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to see you, but getting ready for the opening has been chaotic.”
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.” Which surprised her, because she’d never been much for parties. But then, she’d never had a date with Nick to a blowout like the White Gold opening promised to be.
“So am I.” His gaze settled on her mouth and his eyes darkened. “Very much.”
“I meant the opening,” she said.
“I didn’t.”
Her skin tingled as if he’d touched her. Their order number came up then and she sighed, regretting that the moment had passed.
Casey had just bitten into the crusty French hoagie when a rough voice said, “Well if it isn’t Ms. Bitch Fontaine. What brings you slummin’?”
Startled, she nearly dropped her sandwich. She glanced up to see one of her former employees glaring at her. Nick was halfway out of his chair and she put a hand on his arm to restrain him. “I can handle this,” she told him. “What do you want, Broderick?”
“How ’bout a loan, Ms. Fontaine?” he sneered. “Since you took my job away from me.”
“You might try looking for another one,” she said, unimpressed. “And staying sober when you go to work.”
His face was mottled with fury. Before he could answer, Nick got up. “I don’t think the lady’s interested. But I’ll be happy to take the conversation outside.”
Broderick’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a fight. “Yeah? You and who else?” He added an obscene word.
Fortunately, the place was so loud and crowded, no one seemed to be paying them much attention. Casey stood up. “Nobody’s going anywhere, except you,” she told Broderick. “You need to leave.” But she didn’t expect him to go peacefully.
Casey saw the manager start toward them. Broderick must have decided he didn’t want to take on two men, because he turned and left, though not before spitting out another obscenity.
“Nick, let him go,” she said, and grabbed his arm. “Just let him go. He’s not worth it.”
His eyes were filled with anger. She sensed his struggle and kept her hand on his arm. “Please?”
“You folks all right?” the manager asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Casey said hastily. “A little disagreement.”
“You should have let me break his face,” Nick said after the manager walked away. “Why does he have it in for you?”
Casey picked up her po’boy, though she’d lost her appetite. But she refused to let scum like Broderick ruin her day. “He came to work drunk. Twice.” She shrugged. “So I fired him. He hasn’t been happy with me ever since.”
“Bastard. Let me know if he bothers you again.”
“So you can get in a fight with him?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But Nick—?” Their eyes met and she smiled. “Thanks for the thought.”
CASEY HAD INTENDED to leave work early the following day in order to get ready for the opening. She started trying to go home around noon, but one thing after another required her attention and she didn’t manage to get away until after six.
Casey had enough help that she could take a day off more often, but she didn’t usually want to. Len Forsen, who’d given her her first tractor ride when she was a child, was perfectly capable of taking care of the farm. He’d been Duke’s right-hand man, and was now hers. But like her father, Casey wanted to have her finger in all the Fontaine pies—or at least those concerning the growing of the cane.
Tonight, however, she intended to have a different kind of fun. She was going to a party. A party that, for once, she really wanted to attend.
Her doorbell rang as she was slipping diamond studs into her ears. Her parents had given her some beautiful pieces of jewelry, but Casey rarely wore any. Tonight’s affair was formal, though, so she’d dusted off the studs and matchi
ng diamond-drop necklace to go with her dress.
Fortunately, she’d had just the thing—a dress she’d bought to wear to a formal dance with Jordan. Casey hadn’t wanted to go, which was yet another thing they’d fought about, but she’d let him have his way. At the time she hadn’t known that his affair with their hostess—the same woman he’d later dumped Casey for—was the reason he’d insisted on attending.
Viv all but danced inside when Casey opened the door. “You are not going to regret letting Nick send that limo for us,” Viv said. “I already had a glass of champagne on the way to your place.”
Casey laughed. “Now, why does that not surprise me? And if I hadn’t relented, you’d still be nagging me.” Her friend looked striking, as she always did, her cool beauty enhanced by the flowing white gown.
“Damn right, I would.” Viv looked around and then gave a long whistle. “Wow.”
“It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
“Spectacular,” Viv agreed, nodding. “It looks like a tropical rain forest in here. That man really knows how to charm a woman.”
“You’re not kidding. I told him no one ever gave me flowers and, well—” she gestured around the room “—this is the result.”
Beside the door sat the latest offering, a mixed arrangement of Hawaiian gingers, heliconia, and anthuriums, all in varying shades of red. “These came today.” She looked at her friend suspiciously. “Did you tell him I was wearing red?”
Viv shook her head. “Maybe he’s a mind reader.”
“Sometimes I think he is,” Casey said slowly. “A man who knows women that well is scary.”
“And exciting. Isn’t that part of the thrill?”
Casey laughed again. “I guess so,” she admitted. “But I can’t help wondering if I’m getting in over my head here. I’ve never met anyone like him before.”
“Relax,” Viv said, linking arms with her. “Nick Devlin’s exactly what you need right now. He’s a great guy who obviously knows how to show a woman a good time. What are you so worried about?”
“I’m not worried,” she said automatically.
Viv lifted an eyebrow skeptically and tugged her out the door. “Good, let’s go, then.”
