He stood up. “No, you won’t. I’m retiring at the end of October. My son and granddaughter will take over the practice.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
He affected a sad smile. “I’m going to miss all my patients.”
Hannah left the office and made her way to the reception desk where a nurse handed her small plastic shopping bag. She dropped it into her tote. “Thank you.”
She rode the elevator to the ground floor parking lot. St. John had promised to wait for her and drive her back to DuPont House so she could open the house for the cleaning service. She would have put off having them come if she wasn’t expecting Jasmine, Nydia, Tonya, and her daughter to arrive the following week. St. John drove up, and she got into the car before he could get out and assist her.
Leaning over, he brushed a kiss over her mouth. “How did it go?”
“It was good. The doctor gave me a lubricant and told me to relax.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?”
“I am relaxed.”
“You weren’t before you started living with me.”
Hannah wanted to deny they were living together. Spending five days at his house didn’t translate into living together. Giving up her permanent residence to move in with him meant she would also give up her independence—something she wasn’t quite ready to do. She liked having the option of staying or leaving or deciding where she was willing to sleep.
St. John maneuvered out of the parking lot. “I just got a text from Madame Duarte before you came down. The studio will reopen Monday. So don’t forget to bring your dancing shoes and that sexy little outfit that shows off your long, incredible legs when you come back home.”
Slumping against the leather seat, Hannah closed her eyes. She was no longer the blushing ingénue whenever he complimented her. “When I checked into the McNair B and B, I thought it would only be for a few days. Are you extending my stay beyond a week?”
“Your stay is open-ended. You can leave whenever you want.”
She opened her eyes, unable to see his eyes behind the lenses of a pair of sunglass. “I’ll have to leave once my friends arrive.”
“How many are you expecting?”
“Four. That includes my friend’s daughter.”
“There’s enough room at the B and B if they want to stay with us.”
“Thanks, but no thanks, St. John. I’m not about to flaunt my relationship with you to my friends.”
His jaw tightened. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
“No, I am not.” Hannah enunciated each word. “And I’m insulted you would even utter those words.”
“Then, what is it, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue,” St. John taunted when she hesitated.
“No! I just don’t want them trying to hit on my man.”
St. John’s expression mirrored unadulterated innocence. “Am I your man?”
“Why are you testing me? Of course you’re my man. If you weren’t, do you think I’d allow you to put your face between my legs?”
St. John hadn’t penetrated her but had used oral sex to bring her to climax. She was shocked and awed by his response to her performing fellatio on him. She realized the power she yielded over a man for the first time in her life.
He rested a hand on her knee, squeezing it gently. “I like it when you talk dirty.”
She smiled. “I’ll show you real dirty when I get home tonight.”
“I’m scared, baby.” St. John removed his hand. “It’s Friday and date night. Where do you want to go?”
“Would you mind if we don’t leave Marigny Triangle?” St. John’s home was located in the trendy area of Faubourg Marigny, and Hannah wanted to spend the night in a neighborhood less spirited than the Upper French Quarter.
“Have you ever been to Three Muses?”
“No.”
“I’ve been there many times, and I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”
Hannah had begun to compile of list of venues she wanted to take her former coworkers to. If they were willing to drive more than thirteen hundred miles to visit her, then she had to make certain to show them a rollicking good time.
St. John dropped her off at DuPont House, waiting until she’d unlocked the front door. He held her face between his hands. “What time should I expect you?”
Her gaze lingered on his strong jaw. “Six. I’ll change here to save time.”
“Dress casually and wear comfortable shoes because I plan on us walking to Frenchmen Street.” St. John lowered his head and caressed her mouth with a tender kiss. “Je te verrai plus tard, chérie.”
“I’ll see you later,” she replied in English.
Anchoring the straps of the tote over her shoulder, Hannah closed the door and climbed the staircase to her bedroom. It felt odd not to have Smokey greet her at the door. She wanted to call him a traitor before reminding herself Smokey wasn’t her cat but Paige and LeAnn’s.
She’d just entered her bedroom when her cell phone rang. Searching into the depths of the tote, she retrieved it. “Hello.”
“Let me be the first to congratulate you, Miss Innkeeper.”
Her body felt weightless as she sank down to the window seat. “You did it, Cameron.”
“No, Hannah, you did it. I just made a call to speed up the process. I was told you’d also submitted an application for an eating establishment and they’re going to approve that, too. You should receive official notification sometime next week.”
Hannah’s heart was beating so fast she feared fainting. “How can I thank you?”
“Go out with me.”
“Are you talking about celebrating over dinner?”
“We can begin with that, and go from there.”
Euphoria was suddenly replaced with uneasiness. Had he used his influence to fast-track the permits and license as an ulterior motive to get her to go out with him? “I’ll have dinner with you, but it can’t go any further, because I’m involved with someone.”
There came a swollen pause before Cameron said, “Does he live in New York?”
“No. He lives here.”
“Are you at liberty to divulge the name of my rival for your affections?”
Hannah chewed her lip as she debated whether to tell him that she was seeing St. John. After several seconds she decided to be forthcoming. “St. John McNair.”
Cameron paused again. “The professor over at Barden College?”
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
“Yes and no. Yes, because I didn’t think he would be your type, and no, because I can see why women would be attracted to him.”
Hannah’s temper flared. “What the hell do you mean by my type?”
“Don’t get upset, Hannah. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Like what, Cameron!?”
“I—”
“Look,” she said, cutting him off. “Let’s end this topic before we say something we’ll both later regret. However, I’m still open to having that celebratory dinner.”
“Forget the dinner, Hannah, because I was hoping it would lead to something else.”
She smiled for the first time since answering the call. “What you need is to find a woman with whom to settle down and have a couple of babies before you’re eligible for Medicare.” Soft chuckles caressed her ear.
“I would if I can find that woman. Do you happen to have any lady friends who’d be interested in a slightly used investment banker who’ll treat them like a queen?”
“If you’re treating them like they are queens, then why aren’t you committed to at least one of them?”
“They all wanted to get married.”
“And you’re not?”
“No. I saw what marriage did to my parents, and I want no part of that.”
Hannah paused. “I’ve never been a matchmaker.”
“Are you saying you have someone in mind?”
She thought about Jasmine, wondering if the divorcée would be amenable t
o seeing the attractive investment banker during her stay. “I’m not going to promise anything, but I just might invite you out to the house to meet some of my friends who’re coming from out of town. It’ll be informal, so leave your handmade Italian suit in the closet.”
“Maybe I need to see someone from out of town.”
“That’s because you’ve dated so many women that the word’s out that Cameron Singleton is a player.”
“That’s cold, Hannah.”
“It’s true and you know it. And thanks again for helping me get the approval for the licenses and permits.”
“No problem. Talk to you soon.”
Hannah ended the call and kicked up her feet as she’d done as child when something made her happy. It had happened. She was going to become an innkeeper. The news couldn’t have come at a better time. Now that she knew she going to turn the guesthouses into restaurants, she planned to ask Tonya if she would be willing to run them.
Slipping off the window seat, she danced around the room like a whirling dervish until dizziness forced her to stop. She’d projected that a year from now DuPont House would open for business as the DuPont Inn, offering lodging, dining, and entertainment for locals and out-of-towners. Hannah made a mental note to call the architect for him to draw up plans for the restaurant and supper club, and the engineer to ascertain whether she would be able to install an elevator.
Everything in her life was falling into place. She’d cemented a relationship with a man who made her feel what it meant to be born female, and she was going to embark on a new business venture to which she planned to give one hundred ten percent. Life wasn’t just good. It was unbelievably fantastic.
Chapter 18
St. John smiled when he saw Hannah get out of her car. Missing was the sophisticated woman dressed to the nines and in its place was an ingénue who reminded him of a high school coed with her hair secured in a ponytail and her bare face with just a hint of lip color. A white man-tailored blouse, white skinny jeans with turned-up cuffs, and blue-and-white pinstriped espadrilles completed her casual look.
She held her arms out at her sides. “Am I casual enough?”
He caught her hands, leaning in and pressing his mouth to the column of her scented neck. “You’re perfect. By the way, how many man-tailored blouses do you have?”
“Last count was a dozen. They’re my go-to blouse to pair with skirts, slacks, and suits. It looks as if we were both on the same wavelength when choosing our outfits.”
St. John nodded. He’d opted to wear a white golf shirt with a pair of matching linen slacks and navy-blue deck shoes. “We look as if we’re dressed for sailing.”
“Speaking of sailing, I plan to take my friends on a paddleboat dinner cruise.”
Tucking her hand into the bend of his elbow, he started walking in the direction of Frenchmen Street. “How long do they plan to stay?”
“I’m not sure. The last text I got from Tonya she said they’ll be here through the Fourth.”
“Don’t forget they’re welcome to come to my family reunion.”
“I’ll let them know. I got good news this afternoon.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. Her smile said it all. “You were approved for the inn.”
“Yes. The mayor’s office approved the permits and licenses for the inn and the restaurants. As soon as I receive the official documents, it’s game on.”
“You should’ve called me earlier. We could’ve celebrated back at the house.”
Hannah came to an abrupt stop, causing St. John to stumble before regaining his balance. “Celebrate how?”
“Prepare something on the grill and eat in the garden.”
She took a step, bringing them within inches of each other. “We can still do it.”
St. John successfully hid a smile behind an impassive expression. He’d suggested going out because they’d spent so much time at home. He’d enjoyed every second they were together preparing meals together, sitting and listening to music, discussing the events of the local and national news, and dancing together.
It was when they retired for bed that he felt most complete: going to sleep with her beside him and waking up to find her next to him. Most times they’d lie together holding hands without talking. It had become their time to communicate without words, each lost in their own private thoughts. Though he didn’t want to think about his failed marriage, he found it hard not to make the comparison between Lorna and Hannah.
St. John knew it wasn’t fair to his ex-wife to think of how different his life would have been if he hadn’t married her. It wasn’t fair because of what she’d had to go through as a child, what she had to endure and never talked about. Horrific stories she hadn’t been able to reveal until she found the strength to face her demons.
He enjoyed everything there was about Hannah: her determination, intelligence, and maturity, while despite her revelation that she’d only had one sex partner, he found her open to experimenting with different positions and practices to bring them ultimate satisfaction.
Bringing her left hand to his mouth, he kissed the back of it. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
Lying between St. John’s legs on the lounger, Hannah closed her eyes, reveling in the peace she hadn’t experienced enough in her life. They’d exchanged their white attire for shorts and tees. A number of multi-wicked citronella candles in glazed ceramic bowls made the garden appear ethereal, reminding her of the illustrations in books of fairy tales she’d read as a child.
The garden had been meticulously designed to provide for optimum privacy from neighbors and/or prying eyes with a solid oak door cut into a wall of ivy, which when opened revealed an expansive pergola covered with cypress, Artemisia, and English ivy. It was the picture-perfect setting for a private party with nature’s decoration of shade trees, hedges, and flower beds. Tiny white lights intertwined in tree branches reminded her of the trees lining Fifth Avenue during the Christmas season. She inhaled the refreshing scent of citrus, cassis, and aromatic bamboo lingering in the humid night air.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go in.”
Hannah opened her eyes. The night was perfect for sleeping under the stars. “We can go inside once the candles burn out.”
“That’s not going to be for a long time. The candles have a seventy-five-hour burn time.”
“That’s more than three days.”
St. John kissed her ear. “That’s why I bought them. Each one is filled with eleven pounds of hand-poured wax.”
“That’s why they’re so heavy.” It had taken her more fifteen minutes to light eight seventeen- and twelve-wick candles. “How much do they cost?”
“More than two hundred dollars.”
Hannah sat up. “Each?”
St. John wrapped an arm under her breasts, bringing her to lie against him once again. “Yes.”
“You spent nearly two thousand dollars on candles?”
“I really don’t need you to watch my bank account, Mrs. Lowell.”
Pinpoints of heat pricked Hannah’s cheeks with his biting comeback. In other words, St. John had told her to mind her business where it concerned his finances. “Point taken.”
St. John buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
“It’s all right. I was out of line.”
He shifted her until she straddled his lap and they faced each other. “Let’s not spoil the evening by going for each other’s throats. The only thing I’m going to say about my net worth is that I’m not indigent.”
The small, private, and prestigious college paid him quite well, and not only had his aunt willed him her house and surrounding property but also half her estate, the remaining half going to his sister. His music teacher aunt had held out selling her benefactor’s fishing business until someone met her price. In the end it took four fishermen to form a consortium to give her the astronomical figure she sought.
Hannah leaned into him and then brushed a kiss over his mouth. “You’re right. The weather, the dinner, and the man I’m beginning to like a little too much are all perfect.”
St. John had to agree with her. He’d used the outdoor kitchen to grill chicken, which he’d topped with a corn and black bean salsa. Hannah continued to amaze him with her cooking skills when she made a batch of fried green tomatoes and bananas foster for dessert.
“Have you thought that maybe this man is more than fond of a certain woman who continually shows me up with her cooking skills?”
“Is that what you think, St. John? That I’m competing with you in the kitchen?”
A teasing smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I do.”
“Well, I’m not. I like to cook. And now that I don’t have a day job, I try experimenting with different dishes.”
“I still say you missed your calling. You’re a natural in the kitchen.”
Hannah rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re so good for a woman’s ego.”
“I don’t compliment you to boost your ego, babe.” He splayed his hands over her back. “I only speak the truth.”
“I do remember you saying you’ll never lie to me.”
He nodded. “Never have and never will.”
Hannah trailed light kisses along the side of his neck at the same time she moved her hips back and forth over his groin. St. John breathed out an audible gasp when he hardened so quickly he suddenly felt lightheaded.
“Shit!” The curse had exploded from his mouth.
She went completely still. “Did I hurt you?”
St. John’s hands slipped under her tee and covered her breasts. “You tease!” he rasped in her ear. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Hannah’s hands were just as busy as his when she lifted her hips to undo the button on the waistband of St. John’s shorts. “What’s the matter, darling? You’ve never had a lap dance?”
Throwing back his head, he swallowed a groan. Pushing her hands away, he unzipped his fly to release his erection. Everything became a blur when he relieved Hannah of her shorts and underwear. Pressing her down to the lounger, he held his penis in one hand and slowly eased himself inside her, not meeting the unyielding resistance that had prevented him from penetrating her before. Mindful of how long it had been since she’d slept with a man, he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her pain and lingering discomfort.
The Inheritance Page 23
