Bourbon Street Blues

by Maureen Child

  Pretty slender thread of hope, but at this point, he’d take it.

  Climbing out of his car, he walked around it and stepped up onto the sidewalk right in front of her.

  “What do you want, Parker?” She checked her wristwatch, then glanced off down the street.

  “Who’re you looking for?” Irritation spiked inside him as he wondered who she was waiting to meet.

  She shot him a look. “I called for a cab. It’s late.”

  “Cab?” He shoved both hands into his jeans’ pockets. “Where you headed?”

  Sighing, she stared into his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “Fine. I’m looking at a house. Satisfied?”

  “You’re moving?”

  “Possibly,” she murmured, checking both ways on the street again in disgust. Still no cab.

  “Holly,” he said, “I need to talk to you.”

  She sighed. “Parker, it’s a nice day. I don’t have to worry about anything until I go to work tonight. I’d like to just relax and enjoy it.”

  “Good idea. I’ll help.”

  “I can’t enjoy it if you’re here.”

  “Ouch.” He rubbed one hand against his chest. “Nice shot.”

  She pushed her hair back impatiently. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Parker, I’m just…”

  “Trying to get rid of me.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to you for days.”

  “I know.”

  “Too scared to hear me out?” He watched as his words hit her and wasn’t disappointed to see a flicker of anger in her eyes.

  “You don’t scare me.”

  “Prove it.”

  “For heaven’s sake, what are you? Twelve?”

  He grinned. It wasn’t much, but at least she was talking to him again. Going with it, he made chicken noises.

  A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Fine. What is it you want to say? But make it fast, once my cab shows up, I’ve got to run.”

  He glanced up and down the quiet street.

  “No sign of your cab. How long ago did you call for one?”

  “Twenty minutes,” she admitted, reaching into her black leather bag and dragging out her cell phone. “I’ll just call for another one.”

  He grabbed her hand and held on, despite the frigid glare she shot at him. “Don’t. Let me drive you wherever you’re going.”

  “Parker…”

  “It’ll give me a chance to talk and you won’t be able to run away.”

  “Who’s running?” she countered.

  “You have been. And I’m still not sure why that bothers me. Come on. My car’s right here. You really want to wait around for another cab?”

  She thought about it for a long minute. The toe of her shoe tapped against the sidewalk. “Fine. You can drive me there. I’ll call for a cab to pick me up and bring me home.”

  “Okay,” he said, already ushering her toward the car. Of course, he had no intention of letting her call a cab. But they could talk about that later.

  LUC SMILED at a hotel guest as she strolled across the lobby. Morning sunlight glittered off the hardwood floors, snatches of conversation drifted to him from the lobby seating area, and the reception desk was crowded with arriving conventioneers.

  Life was good at the Hotel Marchand.

  When his desk phone rang, he grabbed it and said, “Concierge, how may I assist you?”

  “You can come up with something fast.”

  Just like that, the light in the room dimmed, shadows reached out for him and panic reared up in his gut. Luc’s heart slammed against his chest, then damn near stopped. The smile slipping from his face, he turned his back on the hotel lobby and whispered viciously, “Richard? You shouldn’t be calling me here.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, guilt rising up in him. Richard Corbin hadn’t contacted him for nearly a week. Luc had almost managed to convince himself that he and his brother Daniel had decided to back down from their plans to take over the Hotel Marchand.

  He should have known better.

  “Listen up, Mr. Concierge,” Richard was saying, his voice a low growl through the phone. “We’re running out of time. Mardi Gras’s almost here and we’re no closer to edging Anne Marchand out of that hotel.”

  “I’m working on it,” Luc insisted.

  Richard’s next words made Luc’s stomach drop.

  “There’s no getting out of this. You’re in deep, buddy, and don’t forget it.”

  Panic gnawed at the edges of Luc’s mind. He couldn’t see a way out. He didn’t have a clue what to do next.

  “You’d better come up with some good ideas to make that bitch sell. Otherwise we’ll have to step in, and I can tell you, people are going to get hurt.”

  Richard hung up, but Luc still held the phone to his ear, the dial tone humming tonelessly. Mouth dry, heart pounding, he slowly, carefully replaced the receiver in its cradle.

  “SO WHERE ARE WE headed?”

  Good question.

  Holly had been wondering that very thing for more than a week. Actually, almost since the moment she’d met Parker James. She never should have gone over to talk to him that first day. Never should have allowed herself to forget for even a second that nothing good could come of the two of them.

  But she had, and now her heart was engaged and she couldn’t undo any of it. Oh, she’d tried. Desperately. For the last several days, every time a thought of Parker rose up in her mind, she shut it down quickly. But it didn’t seem to do any good. Whenever she slept, her brain was free to do as it pleased, and apparently it was determined to focus on Parker.

  Her dreams were filled with him. And when she woke up alone, her heart ached.

  “Hello?”

  Holly heard the smile in Parker’s voice.

  “Want to give me a hint about where we’re going?”

  Holly slanted Parker a look, then turned her head to stare out the windshield again. Much easier to look at strangers, trees, traffic, than into those blue eyes of his.

  “By Burke Park. Over on Annunciation.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just, that’s the neighborhood I live in.”

  Perfect.

  Instantly her back went up. “If you’re thinking this is just another one of my nefarious ‘plots’ involving you, you can forget about it. I didn’t know you lived there and—”

  “Hey, hey, hey.” He lifted one hand from the wheel briefly in mock surrender. “I didn’t say anything. Just thought it was a coincidence. That’s all.”

  “Fine.”

  “So what’re we headed there for?”

  To take a look at what could be Holly’s future. Through friends of friends, she’d heard about an old house that was going up for sale soon. According to every report she’d had on it, the place needed a lot of work, but it was selling for much less than it would have otherwise. And her friend had gotten her the keys so she could look around.

  In fact, it had felt too good to be true. Now that she’d learned Parker lived in the same area, she knew it was.

  Still, she wouldn’t allow him to ruin this for her.

  “I’m going to look at a house,” she said simply. “You’re being a cabdriver.”

  “Right.”

  Holly folded her hands in her lap, linking her fingers together tightly. “Look, you said you wanted to talk to me, so talk.”

  Whatever he had to say to her, she would hear him out, then put it behind her. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again. Wouldn’t give him any more power to chip away at her heart.

  He pulled up at a stoplight, tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and started talking.

  “I’ve missed you, Holly.”

  She swallowed hard. Damn it. This wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to know that he missed her. Didn’t want to start imagining tha
t he had feelings for her. That would only make her nuts.

  She cleared her throat and said, “You just saw me last night. At the hotel.”

  “From the back of the room.”

  Yes, but she’d seen him there. Felt his presence. And she’d sung to him. She wondered if he’d known that. If he’d seen that her heart was in her song? Probably not.

  She sighed heavily. “What is it you want from me, Parker?”

  “Damned if I know,” he murmured, and stepped on the gas, taking a left turn on Washington Avenue.

  Holly looked out the window at Lafayette Cemetery Number One. Some of the trees were gone now after Hurricane Katrina, but the tombs, the monuments, were still standing as silent sentinels to the past. Instinctively she dipped her head in a small show of respect for those buried there.

  As they passed Chestnut Street, Parker said, “My house is right down there.”

  Too close, she thought. Way too close for comfort. Even if she could swing buying this place…even if she made it her home, brought in the foster children she was determined to have…Parker would be practically around the corner.

  Oh, God. How would she manage to live here and not think about him?

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “About our last night together. About what I said. What I thought.”

  She turned to look at his profile and forced herself to remember every awful accusation he’d hurled at her. If she could only find her rage again, that might be enough to protect her and keep her from acknowledging one very sad truth.

  She loved him.

  Holly winced, took a breath and held it. Yes, it was fast, but the simple truth was unavoidable. She loved his passion, loved his smile. She loved how he made her feel and, heaven help her, she even loved arguing with him. She hadn’t wanted to look at her own feelings and see them for what they were. But ignoring them wouldn’t make them go away.

  She loved Parker James.

  And she’d never have him.

  Best to just get used to it now and learn to move on.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate the apology. Even though you’ve said that before.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that night, Holly. A lot.”

  “Me, too.”

  “And I need to know. Are you pregnant?”

  She goggled at him for a second or two. “That’s what this is about? This apology? This little ride together for a heart-to-heart chat?”

  “No.” His fists tightened on the steering wheel. “Well, not completely. Damn it, I’ve got a right to know if you’re carrying my baby.”

  “Well, I’m not. At least, I don’t know yet.”

  “When will you know?”

  “A few days.” She forced herself to keep looking at him. “But even if I am—” God forbid “—you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning, I’ll take care of the baby myself. I already told you I don’t want anything from you, Parker. I don’t know how to be more clear than that.” She pointed. “That’s Annunciation. Turn right.”

  “Holly, if you’re pregnant, then we both take care of that baby.”

  “No thanks,” she muttered. “My baby won’t need a ‘duty’ daddy. There it is! Pull up here.”

  He parked and turned to look in the direction she’d indicated, but Holly barely noticed. All she could see was the house—and possibilities.

  It was huge. Four chimneys, three stories and ironwork railings on the balconies. Faded pink paint was peeling from the sides of the house, and the weeds and grass were high enough to give an invading army plenty of cover. The windows were dirty and the surrounding trees looked like gnarled old men gathered for a bitching session.

  “It’s…” she said.

  “It’s…” he said.

  “Perfect.”

  “Hideous.”

  “What do you know?” Holly demanded before opening her door and leaping out of the car. She was halfway across the street before Parker caught up to her. Taking her elbow in a firm grip, he refused to be shaken off. “Oh, look,” she said. “The front porch is great. Wraps all the way around the house.”

  “Probably the only thing holding it up.”

  “The yard’s so big, and those trees…”

  “…look like they’re going to topple over on top of the place.”

  “Four chimneys,” she said dreamily, not even listening to Parker now, so caught up in a vision of children playing in the yard.

  “Probably stuffed with birds’ nests and squirrels.”

  “A bay window at the front of the house.”

  “Cracked.”

  She dug in her purse and came up with an old, tarnished brass key ring. “I’m going in.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  Finally she stopped, yanked her arm free and whirled around to face him. “Why are you still here? You gave me a ride, you apologized. Again. Go away.”

  Frowning down at her, he said, “And leave you alone here? I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t need your help and I don’t want you here.”

  “You’ve made that clear enough,” he admitted. “But I’m still not letting you go strolling through this death trap on your own.”

  “It’s not a death trap,” she snapped. All the old house needed was someone to love it again. It needed to become a home again. To have laughter and shouts echoing through its rooms.

  It was as if the old house was calling to her, asking her to rescue it from the silence.

  And that’s just what she was going to do.

  “It’s mine.”

  She hurried up the cracked sidewalk, stepped onto the porch and grinned at the sound of her heels on the worn boards. Turning the key in the lock, she opened the door and stepped into the shadowy cool.

  “Holly.”

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder. Her excitement at finding this old jewel was only slightly marred by knowing that Parker would never be a part of her life. That they would never sit together in the big old living room and listen to the sounds of children clattering up and down the staircase.

  But when she’d first conceived this dream, he hadn’t been a part of it. The fact that he still wasn’t didn’t change anything, did it?

  “Don’t look so worried, Parker. I’m not crazy. I’m just home.”

  “Why would you want to buy this old place? It’s huge, for one thing, and falling down for another.”

  “It can be fixed,” she said, nodding as she walked through the main hall and stepped into the empty, cavernous living room. She ran one hand across the peeling paint on the wall and smiled as if looking at an original Gauguin. “It just needs to be loved.”

  “But why’s it so important to you? Why this house? Why now?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  PARKER LISTENED to Holly talk as he followed her through the house. Her voice rang with excitement as she outlined her plans for a permanent home for foster children.

  “Kids deserve homes, Parker,” she said wistfully, her gaze moving over the walls, the scarred floors, the broken windows.

  And he knew she was seeing the house as it could be, not as it was.

  “I didn’t have that,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice belied by the pain in her eyes. “I never had the feeling that I belonged. That I mattered. As soon as I was old enough, I split. Went out on my own and made my own family.”

  “Holly…”

  She shook her head and gave him a small smile. “Don’t. That wasn’t a bid for sympathy. It was a long time ago and I’m over it.”

  He didn’t think so, but doubted she’d want to hear that at the moment.

  “But the kids who are out there today, waiting, hoping that someone will want them…they matter.”

  Her voice was soft but firm, and he knew that no matter what she had to do, she would find a way to make other children’s lives better.

  While they walked through the house, he only half listened to her,
thinking instead about the childhood she’d described so briefly. On her own at sixteen, she hadn’t given up, but had made a life she could be proud of. And now she wanted to share that life with kids who might not have her tenacity and self-confidence. He admired her for it. For all of it.

  And once again, he felt like the worst kind of ass for everything he’d said to her on their last night together. For insinuating that she was trying to use him to ensure herself an easy life.

  Their footsteps echoed weirdly in the emptiness, but as Holly continued to describe, explaining her dream, her plans, the house began to change in Parker’s mind.

  He began to see it as she did. He could almost smell the fresh paint and see the sun glinting on the now dusty, hardwood floors. When he looked out the windows, he didn’t see the years of grime caked on the glass, he saw sunbeams splintering through them to shine down on a well-tended lawn with a swing hanging from one of the tree branches. The house needed a lot of work, true. But in the end, it would be a special place.

  She started up the stairs, mindlessly dragging her left hand along the filthy banister, her attention focused on the second-floor landing. “It’s perfect. Or it will be,” she said, as if convincing herself as well as Parker. “With a house this size, I can take in at least six kids. Maybe more.”

  “And who’s with them when you work?”

  She flashed him a grin. “I’ll hire help. Maybe a nice grandmotherly type who can use a home to love as much as the kids.”

  “House is gonna need a lot of work.”

  She frowned. “I can see that. But it’s going to be—”

  “Perfect?” he finished for her.

  Holly’s smile took his breath away.

  “You catch on quick,” she said, then yelped as her right foot went right through one of the stair treads.

  The old wood splintered as she fell, her leg sinking up to her knee. She wobbled, flung her arms out for balance, but Parker was too fast for her. He took the two steps separating them and caught her as she went down.

  Heartbeat thundering, he cradled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding on. “You okay? God, Holly, are you hurt?”