Or maybe it was nothing more than the taste of freedom, even though that freedom would be short-lived. I couldn't hide forever, not when I was certain my father was looking for me.
Not when I was certain he'd have a hundred questions waiting for me.
But for now, these few minutes at least, I didn't have to worry about my father or his questions. I didn't have to worry about Quinn's shark smile and wandering hands.
And I didn't have to worry about Nathan. About why his actions the other night had upset me or why I'd reacted the way I had when I saw him tonight.
More importantly, I didn't have to wonder how I'd become so attached to a man I didn't know in such a short amount of time.
For now, for just a few brief wonderful minutes, I didn't have to worry about anything.
The soft whisper of a sole scratching against stone echoed behind me and I stiffened, knowing those few precious moments of freedom were gone before they really started. I turned, already knowing who I'd see standing there and anticipating it as much as I dreaded it.
Piercing blue eyes met mine and even through the shadows surrounding us, I could see the hesitation in their depths. The uncertainty. His long hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd been running his fingers through it—as if I'd been running my fingers through it. But it was his mouth that held my attention. Full and soft and devilishly sexy, the small scar at the corner making him look like he was on the verge of smiling right before sharing a secret that nobody else knew.
He rocked back on his heels and jammed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. I'd never seen him in anything but jeans—if he was wearing clothes at all—and was surprised at how different he looked in a suit, how comfortable he appeared in it.
Well, maybe not quite so comfortable now, not if the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other meant anything. He cleared his throat, stepped closer then stopped, as if he wasn't sure what I'd do. We stood there, several feet and worlds apart, for the longest time, until he finally opened his mouth and spoke. Just a single word, in a rich voice that captivated and called.
"Addy."
Chapter Nine
Nathan
She was going to bolt. I could see it in the sudden tension that seized her bare shoulders, in the slight widening of dark eyes that finally met mine. Her body leaned back as she shifted the weight on the high heels encasing her feet and I fully expected her to turn and run even though she'd be risking spraining an ankle on the uneven walkway. But she surprised me because instead of running, she calmly clasped her hands in front of her and tilted her head a fraction of an inch, like she was searching a mental directory for my name.
Was that how she wanted to play this? To put on some big show and act like she didn't know me? A low growl vibrated in the back of my throat and it took more self-control than I would have expected to keep the growl from exploding into a howl of frustration.
Especially when a small part of me wondered if maybe it wasn't really an act at all.
Bullshit. She knew exactly who I was—and she was just as stunned to see me as I was to see her. The ramifications of seeing her here hadn't sunk in yet but only because I refused to let them take root. I was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact that she was actually here, standing a few feet in front of me, when I'd convinced myself I would never see her again. I'd deal with everything else later.
As soon as I was certain she wasn't going to take off like she had fifteen minutes ago when I first showed up on her doorstep.
I took a cautious step forward, then another, moving closer but stopping before I got too close, just in case Addy decided to make a mad dash for it. But she remained where she was, her expression too serene and too damn polite.
"Nathan. What a pleasant surprise."
Pleasant? Somehow, I doubted that. And no matter what kind of mask she had decided to wear, it wasn't good enough to hide the discomfort and uncertainty flashing in the depths of her eyes. Her gaze briefly met mine, slid away, then skittered back.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here."
I swallowed back a bark of laughter. "That makes two of us."
She nodded, twisted her fingers together then absently smoothed her palms along the front of her dress. It was a simple off-the-shoulder dress that hugged her generous curves before swirling out around her knees. The shimmery dark gold complemented her dark coloring and smooth skin and I had to swallow the insane urge to step closer and pull the front of the dress up higher to hide the swell of flesh peeking over the top. Yeah, because that would go over with no problem at all.
I curled my hands into fists and shoved them deeper into my pockets then motioned toward the house with a lame-ass nod. "So. This is where you live."
She glanced at the expansive house and the lush gardens and fountain—a real damn fountain, for shit's sake—then turned back to me. I could have sworn it was embarrassment I saw staining her cheeks. "All my life. It's been in the family since the 1860s."
I looked at the house again, trying to imagine what it must have been like growing up in something so damn big. In some place with such deep roots. I hadn't seen much of the inside yet—I'd been too busy chasing after Addy—but I'd seen enough. The place was like a museum, filled with antiques and heirlooms going back more than a hundred-and-sixty years.
Only it wasn't a museum—it was where Addy had grown up. Where she lived.
"I didn't know you played for the Bourdons."
I swallowed back the bitter taste of sudden inadequacy, angry with myself for feeling it for even a split second, and focused on the question masked as a simple observation. On the rhythmic cadence of her soft voice and the way the ridiculous team name sounded when she said it, like it was something rich and rare and enchanting instead of a stupid-ass constipated bumblebee.
"I didn't know you were the owner's daughter." My words hung in the heavy air between us, the accusation beneath them silent. Or maybe not so silent because Addy's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch as she stared at me. I sensed the anger simmering just below her poised surface, winced at the biting sharpness of her next words.
"I guess you would have known if you had bothered to ask my last name."
"I wasn't the one who insisted on not exchanging information."
She took a small step back, almost like she'd been slapped. Regret immediately filled me and I stepped closer, pulling my hand free to reach for her.
"Addy—"
"No, you're right." Her expression cleared and a bright smile as fake as the design of the Bourdons' gold lamé logo curled her full mouth. "I'm sure it doesn't really matter now."
"The hell it doesn't."
She waved one well-manicured hand through the air between us, dismissing my low growl. "No, it really doesn't. Now if you'll excuse me—"
"Addy, wait." I caught her hand with mine, stopping her before she could turn and leave. Her trembling fingers curled around mine and I felt the cool dampness of her flesh and I knew, in that brief second, that her careful aloofness was nothing more than an act. She was as unsettled by this—whatever this was—as I was. Then she yanked her hand free and watched me with dark eyes that gave nothing away.
"How's your face?"
"My face is fine." I forced the words from between clenched teeth, rising to her well-timed bait in spite of myself. Her quick grin did nothing to soothe my ego.
"Jacqui sometimes forgets just how strong she really is."
"Yeah, I'll just bet." Was she expecting me to say something else? To ask questions or pass judgment? Too damn bad if she was because that wasn't happening.
Or maybe she'd meant it as a test of some kind because her shoulders relaxed just the smallest bit when I refused to say anything else. Her smile grew just a little wider and she shrugged. "Well, I'm glad there was no lasting damage done."
"About the other night—"
"What about it?"
"I didn't mean to stand you up."
"Of course you did."
She softened the words with a small smile but they still stung—because they were the truth. "But it's okay, Nathan. Truly."
"I—" I hesitated, took a step closer then stopped before giving in to the temptation of pulling her into my arms. "Addy, can we go somewhere to talk?"
"About?"
"About what happened. About this." I waved a hand through the air between us. "About us."
"I don't think—"
"Please." If any of the guys heard me right now, I'd never live it down—but for reasons I didn't understand, I didn't really give a shit. I'd been tearing the Quarter apart all week looking for Addy and I needed to talk to her, if for no other reason than to apologize. Never mind that I'd just done that, it wasn't enough. I wasn't sure why that was the case but it was.
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and cautiously glanced around before shaking her head. "I'm sure Daddy is looking for me."
Daddy. The single word fell like a block of ice between us, reminding me that Addy was officially off-limits. She was the daughter of our team's owner. That more than anything else put her squarely out of my league.
At least, it would have if I had been one to pay attention to the rules.
She turned back to me, shadows I didn't understand filling her eyes before they disappeared with one blink. "Tomorrow afternoon."
I grabbed onto the offering like a drowning man gripping a lifeline. "Where?"
"The Riverwalk, near the Dumaine Street stop. One o'clock."
I opened my mouth, ready to tell her I'd be there, but she was already turning to leave. The tiny points of her high heels clicked against the walkway, the noise quickly swallowed by the sounds of the party drifting through the night air. I stood there for several minutes, long enough for Addy to disappear back into the house so it wouldn't look like I was following her.
And already making plans for tomorrow, convincing myself we could pick up right where we left off.
Convincing myself that not a damn thing had changed when it really had, probably in more ways than I was willing to admit.
Chapter Ten
Addy
I almost didn't make it.
Not because I didn't want to go—although, honestly, a part of me didn't—but because it was harder to sneak out of the house than I thought it would be. And sneak wasn't just an expression. I really did have to sneak out because Daddy was suddenly a lot more interested in what I was doing and where I was going than he usually was. He'd been curious last night during the party, asking me a few veiled questions about where I'd run off to so suddenly and why. I'd been expecting him to ask me if I knew Nathan—even I wasn't foolish enough to think my running off hadn't been so obvious—but he didn't. The fact that he hadn't worried me and I couldn't shake the feeling that the obvious question's omission was a sign of something else to come. A storm of some sort, maybe, much like the storm brewing on the horizon to the west.
Or maybe that odd sensation was nothing more than a byproduct of my own guilty conscience because that's exactly how I felt as I rode the streetcar to the Quarter. This guilt was a new thing for me and I didn't completely understand where it came from. Or maybe I did and I just didn't want to acknowledge it because it all circled back to the feeling I woke up with this morning. The same feeling that lodged in my chest and made my stomach roll with a touch of queasiness. A feeling born of the realization that I was deliberately hiding something from Daddy. Not a small thing, like a bad grade on a report card when I'd been younger, or the fact that I'd crushed the bumper of my new car when I had accidentally backed into a pole when I was sixteen. This was bigger, bordering on an outright lie even though Daddy hadn't specifically asked me anything that I'd directly lied about.
I didn't like that sensation—the guilt or the feeling that I'd lied—any more than I liked being made to feel like I was sneaking around. Now I was running late and I wondered if maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. Nathan would have grown tired of waiting and left already—if he had bothered to show up at all—and that would be that. Our short time together would be relegated to nothing more than some memories. Could I accept that? Of course, I could. We'd never had a relationship, we'd only been having fun. Nothing more.
Then why had I been so eager for Jacqui to meet him? Why had I been so disappointed when he hadn't shown up for our dinner date last week? Why had I reacted the way I had last night, running off like some spoiled child who hadn't gotten her way?
And why did my stomach clench with disappointment when I thought I might never see Nathan again?
I pushed the answers I didn't want to admit to away and joined the handful of people, mostly tourists, making their way off the streetcar. Most of them turned to head into the Quarter, to walk across Decatur to stand in line at Cafe Dumonde or to grab their trinkets from the French Market. Only two other people walked across the tracks with me, heading up the short flight of stairs that would take us to the riverwalk that bordered the Mississippi. I paused at the top of the stairs, relishing the breeze that fanned my cheeks for a few seconds before gazing over my shoulder at the heavy clouds darkening the horizon. The storm was moving in faster. I'd look around, see that Nathan wasn't here, then hurry back down the steps. With a little luck, I might even be able to jump back on the streetcar before it left the station and make it home before getting soaked.
I turned my head to the right and sucked in a short gasp of surprise. A man was sitting on one of the iron benches a few feet away, his hands clasped together and hanging between his knees as he stared at the ground. The breeze tousled his dark hair, lifting the ends from the back of his neck before settling them over the collar of his gray t-shirt.
Nathan.
He must have sensed me watching him, or maybe he heard my small gasp, because he slowly straightened and turned his head. Piercing blue eyes met mine and my traitorous heart leapt in my chest.
How could I have ever thought that I was doing nothing more than having fun with the man staring back at me?
My reaction didn't make sense. We'd only known each other for not quite four weeks—and hadn't seen each other for the last five days of that time. My pulse shouldn't be racing the way it was and it was absolutely ridiculous that I wanted to rush forward and throw myself into his arms.
What I should have done was turn around and race back to the streetcar. Go home. Forget about the man watching me, the expression on his face letting me know that he fully expected me to do that very thing.
I held my ground instead of giving in to the cowardly—or maybe it was sane?—urge. A long minute stretched out between us before Nathan finally pushed to his feet and walked toward me. I had the sense he wanted to reach out to me as much as I wanted to reach out to him but in the end, we both just stood there.
Awkward.
Uncomfortable.
Nathan cleared his throat, his gaze not quite meeting mine. "I didn't think you were coming."
"I almost didn't." My admission surprised him, even though that hadn't been my intention. Maybe that was a good thing, to make him think that my being here wasn't a guarantee of anything. This meeting was just to talk, although I wasn't exactly sure what we were supposed to be talking about.
The fact that he'd stood me up?
The fact that whatever was going on—or had been going on—wasn't quite what either of us had first thought?
The fact that neither of us really knew who the other was?
Or maybe it was the fact that, now that we did know, there was no possible way we could continue seeing each other. If that was even what Nathan wanted. For all I knew, he just wanted this opportunity to make a clean break. Maybe he was worried I'd make trouble for him, now that he knew who my father was.
The thought chilled me just as a gust of wind blew around us. I reached behind me and grabbed a handful of hair, twisting it to keep it from flying around my face. The move gave me a chance to look away from those piercing blue eyes, to hide my unexpected reaction to my own thoughts.
>
Nathan pointed to the bench where he'd been sitting a moment earlier. "Did you want to sit down and talk?"
I nodded and took a seat, sliding closer to the end to make sure there was ample distance between us. It was an error of judgment on my part because Nathan sat down right next to me, his thigh brushing against mine, and now I had nowhere to go. I tossed a meaningful look in his direction but he completely ignored it.
Or maybe he didn't see it since he was staring straight ahead at the choppy surface of the river.
I readjusted the thin strap of my small bag on my shoulder and released a small sigh. "You said you wanted to talk."
He nodded but didn't say anything for the longest time—long enough that I was seriously considering getting up to leave.
Until he spoke.
"I tried looking for you. Every day this past week." He shifted on the bench, his head turning toward me. Our gazes met and I looked away, afraid of what he might see in my eyes.
"Why?" It was a silly question, too needy and too desperate, and I wished I could take it back as soon as it left my mouth.
"To apologize for Monday night."
"You did that last night—"
"And because I wanted to see you again."
My heart—traitorous thing that it was—slammed into my chest again and it took every bit of control I had not to melt in a puddle right then and there. It would be so easy to read too much into his words. So easy to accept the unspoken invitation they contained. I wanted to reach out and curl my hand around his and pretend the last week hadn't happened. To pretend that whatever had been between us really was no more than just the two of us having fun with no commitments or expectations.
But I couldn't because it wasn't. Not for me, at least. I'd been a fool to tell myself otherwise.
And I'd be a fool to think anything more could happen, whether it was just fun or not, now that I knew who he was.
Rule Breaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 1) Page 6
