“What about the baseball player? Why were you with him?”
Melinda took a moment to formulate her answer. “I guess I hoped he could make my life better, but …” She shrugged.
“You never really wanted to be with him, did you, Melinda?” Nathan’s cocky grin made her stomach tighten. “I think there has been a series of men in your life who you’ve had no interest in whatsoever.”
Melinda rallied to keep up her stoic countenance. “What makes you say such a thing?”
He inched closer to her, the grin never leaving his handsome face. “Because a man you truly wanted, you would never have given up on. And that includes Mr. Love-of-my-life-Josh.”
She was bowled over by his appraisal. Was she that obvious when it came to men?
“What happened after Josh left?” Nathan continued. “What did you do?”
“It was rough, at first. I didn’t know anyone in the city, and I needed to pay the rent. Then I was walking through Jackson Square one day and met my friend Ellie.”
“The older woman with the pink hair and tattoos?”
Melinda nodded. “She got me started on the Square. I began by just doing readings, and then I built up the courage to play my music for the tourists. After a while, I met some more people, and then I got some gigs playing in a few hotels.”
“Why didn’t you go back to Mississippi after Josh left?”
“No way.” Melinda vehemently cut her hand through the air. “When I left my father’s farm to go to college, I vowed never to go back. I would die before I’d ever go back home.”
The line ahead of them began to thin.
“Did you hate your home that much?”
Melinda’s mouth watered when a waiter carrying a tray of biscuits walked by. “No, I just never wanted that life. To be a farmer’s wife, married to a man who stinks of cattle, working from sun up to sun down. I watched it destroy my mother. I may have just been a kid, but even I knew she wasn’t happy. My father never saw it. He and my brothers always loved the farm, but I couldn’t stand it.”
“Perhaps coming to New Orleans was more about leaving your home and less about your feelings for Josh. Have you ever considered that?”
She was about to open her mouth to refute his suggestion when a round woman sitting on a stool behind a cash register smiled at them.
“Y’all know what ya want?” the dark-skinned woman asked.
“Two coffees, an order of biscuits with scrambled eggs, and I’ll have the ham and egg breakfast.” Nathan handed the woman a fifty-dollar bill.
“Coffee’s fresh in the pot right over there.” She pointed to the serving station for drinks next to them. “Get ya coffee, have a seat, and ya waiter will be right over.” The woman handed Nathan his receipt and his change.
After filling two white mugs with coffee, they found a table in the corner of the main dining room. Melinda took a sip from her coffee and surveyed the people seated around them as Nathan removed his suit jacket.
“When are you going to play for me?” He settled in the chair next to her.
Melinda turned to him and was suddenly riveted by his intense eyes. “Why would you want me to play for you?”
He lifted his mug. “I’ve listened to you talk about how music is your passion, but I’ve never heard you play. I would like to have you play for me some time.”
“You may live to regret those words, Nathan. I sometimes get the urge to write music until the wee hours of the morning.”
He sat back in his chair. “I won’t mind. Might be nice to hear some soft melody coming through the walls.”
“Really? I was told you like quiet in your building.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Phil’s still mad at me about having to wear headphones when he listens to his metal music, eh?”
Melinda rested her arms on the table. She liked the way his hair appeared a little windblown, and how his thin lips seemed to curl into a playful smile when he looked at her. Most of all, she liked being with him. There was something sexy about the way he held the white mug in his hands.
A young man in a white apron approached their table. “Y’all got your receipt?”
Nathan handed the receipt for their breakfast to their waiter. The young man scurried away, heading back to the main counter.
“I don’t think you’re as guarded as you pretend to be,” Melinda said as she admired his sexy profile.
Nathan turned from watching the waiter. “What are you talking about?”
“Your employees seem to be rather intimidated by you. They all tell me what a guarded man you are, but I don’t see that. I think you’re very forthright and open.”
Nathan leaned in closer to her. “Only with you. With everyone else, I am that guarded man.”
“Why are you only like that with me?”
“Maybe because I want you to know me like I want to know you.”
A white light filled Melinda’s head, and then the images came, fast and furious. She caught a glimpse of her lying on that four-poster bed, wrapped in his strong arms.
“Please stop having those thoughts, Nathan,” she begged, covering her red cheeks with her hands.
“That’s the second time you’ve said something about reading my thoughts.” He grinned. “What am I thinking right now, Melinda?”
She stared into his eyes as images of his mouth covering hers overwhelmed her.
“Here’s y’all’s order.” Their waiter banged a black tray down on their table.
Melinda took advantage of the disruption to clear her mind. When the plate of scrambled eggs and biscuits was placed before her, her stomach rumbled.
“Anything else I can get y’all?” the waiter inquired.
“No, this is great,” Nathan told him.
Melinda picked up the fork. “I think sometimes you’re toying with me.”
Nathan added a few shakes of pepper to his ham and eggs. “I’m toying with you?” He whacked the pepper shaker down on the table. “Melinda, I don’t think you know the effect you have on men. I thought Bud Moore was going to leap at you from across the room when he first saw you.”
She filled her fork with scrambled eggs. “I saw the way he looked at me, but I couldn’t see what he was thinking.” She shoved the eggs into her mouth.
“But when I look at you, you can see what I’m thinking, can’t you?”
Melinda concentrated on the taste of the eggs, wanting to keep out of Nathan’s head. After she had swallowed her food, she turned to him. “I can see your desires, Nathan. Especially the ones concerning me.”
His face grew somber as he picked up his knife and fork. “Those desires can never come true, Melinda. Remember that.” He furiously cut into his ham. “I don’t want anything getting in the way of your job. I need your ability to help my business. I can’t risk jeopardizing that. So if you see thoughts that you think … they’re just thoughts, nothing more.”
Feeling her appetite wane, Melinda rested her fork on the plate. She reached for her coffee and closed her eyes as she sipped the warm liquid. Suddenly, she yearned for something stronger.
How was she going to contain her burgeoning feelings for him? Lying or deceiving people was not something she was good at. Her emotions had pretty much been an open book to anyone willing to view them. If she felt this way now, how was it going to be in another month, or even a year after working with the man? Would her feelings eventually recede, or would they grow hotter with every minute she spent in his presence? Undone by her dilemma, Melinda picked up her fork and sighed. This job was turning out to be a lot tougher than she’d expected.
Chapter 9
When they returned to The Shallows, Nathan insisted Melinda come to his penthouse and go over their upcoming meetings.
“Since you have a good grasp of what you will be doing, we have to discuss tactics … what I’m looking for at each meeting, and the big players you need to be reading,” he explained as they rode the elevator up to the fifth floor.
When the
y stepped from the elevator, Melinda swallowed back her rising apprehension.
“I also want you to be prepared for some shouting matches at a few of these things,” he warned as he retrieved his keys from his jacket pocket.
“Why would there be any shouting? I thought you said the people you’re dealing with are businessmen.”
He snorted with amusement. “Obviously, you’ve never been to many business meetings where there’s a large amount of money at stake.” He unlocked his double doors and waved her inside. “After you,” he said with a grin.
Entering his penthouse, the intensity of the light took her breath away. The open loft was filled with radiant sunlight beaming in through a long line of picture windows that made up the far wall. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Melinda could see how each room spilled over into the next. Walls were composed of red-bricked support archways and the rough-hewn cypress ceiling beams had been left exposed. The pine hardwood floors were dull and covered with dark knots, but the effect complemented the rustic appearance of the space. The furniture was minimalist in nature, finished with chrome and white leather, and scattered intermittently about a living room area. Along one wall were four colorful portraits of women attired in skimpy lingerie and bound with handcuffs, rope, and other bondage devices.
“They’re by the artist Ren Plancharde. Ever heard of him?” Nathan gauged her reaction.
Melinda moved closer to get a better look at the paintings. “No. Who is he?”
He shut the doors and came up to her. “A local artist, but he’s getting a national following among bondage enthusiasts.”
“Bondage enthusiasts?” She raised her eyebrows. “That sounds dangerous.”
He eased in next to her. “Do you know anything about the Dominant-submissive relationship?”
“Only what I’ve read and seen in the movies.”
Nathan shook his head and stepped away. “The media presents a very slanted view of the lifestyle.”
Melinda’s curiosity was piqued by his use of the word “lifestyle.” Is Nathan into this stuff?
“How do you know the artist?” she pressed, wanting to know more.
“We belong to the same club.”
“Like a health club?”
Nathan chuckled. “No, something much more … exclusive. It’s called the Corde Noire Society.”
“Corde Noire? That means black rope.”
“Tres bien,” he cooed. “There are only a handful of members currently, but we hope to expand our ranks.”
Melinda furrowed her brow. “What kind of society is it?”
He moved past her into the living room. “Just something for men who like to play games.”
Melinda was about to question him further when she became distracted by a collection of rusted shackles, chains, and collars covering one section of a wall to her left.
“What’s that?” She pointed in horror at the wall.
Nathan halted and casually eyed the artifacts. “They came with the building. Old pieces that were found beneath the foundation when I was doing renovations.”
“Why do you have them in your apartment?”
Nathan tossed his keys on a glass and chrome coffee table. “I didn’t think it would be appropriate to display them in the lobby. They’re actually quite valuable. A historical society wanted them, but I thought they should remain with the building. I guess it’s my memorial to all those who died on this site.” He motioned to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”
Melinda tore her eyes away from the frightful objects. “No, thank you.”
In the open bedroom to her left, she noted a gold Oriental rug beneath a king-sized, four-poster walnut bed covered with a white bedspread. A smile lifted the edges of her lips. Beyond the bedroom, she could just make out an ultra-modern bathroom made of glass and trimmed with silver. She eyed the frosted shower stall, white double vanity, and a see-through linen closet framed in silver.
Nathan eased his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it to the white leather and chrome sofa. He strutted toward the kitchen, passing the big screen television at the edge of the living room area.
“Where’s your office?”
Nathan nodded to a door next to the kitchen. “In there.”
Melinda assessed the proximity of the office door to her apartment wall. “I’ll have to remember your office is right next to my apartment. Make sure I wear my headphones when I play my keyboard.”
He opened the built-in Sub-Zero refrigerator. “Please don’t. I told you, I want to hear your music.” Nathan turned to her and lifted his eyebrows playfully. “As long as it isn’t heavy metal.” He removed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
Melinda strolled further into the apartment. “Kind of hard to play heavy metal on a keyboard. You need a guitar to really wail with that stuff.”
“What kind of music do you play?”
She put her purse and briefcase on the sofa. “My music is more ethereal. Light, easy on the ears, and meant to move the spirit, not necessarily the feet.”
He returned to her side, carrying the water in his hands. “Then it’s like you.”
Melinda shrugged. “It’s what I feel.”
“Even better.” Nathan went to his office door. “Why don’t we go over a few things? I can show you the designs I have for this property we are fighting for, and by then I’m sure Edna, my secretary, will show up.”
Melinda dutifully followed him, admiring the way his trousers hugged the curve of his tight ass.
God, help me.
* * *
An hour later, she was perched on a corner of his wide, cherry-stained desk that was covered with a three-foot sheet of architectural plans.
“Looks good,” she offered, clueless as to what he was gesturing to.
“The offices can reside in this tower, and at the top we will put some pricey penthouse-condos. That should make the city leaders happy by bringing in more taxable housing. Lord knows, they could use it. This property has been sitting empty for a number of years, so the revenue will be a boon for the area.”
Melinda noted the way his sleek hands glided over the long paper, then stopped and casually traced some random spot.
“If this works, Melinda, it will open a whole lot of doors for the city, and for us.”
She quickly raised her eyes to him. “‘Us’?”
“We’re a team.” He began rolling up the plans. “If today is any indication of what you can do, then we have a bright future ahead.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
He rolled the paper into a tight tube. “Just keep telling me what you’re feeling about the people we meet, and I will do the rest.”
Melinda sat back on the desk. “Do you think that’s bending the rules a little? Hiring a psychic to read business partners for you?”
“Potential business partners,” he corrected. “If they were already business partners then I might feel like I was bending the rules. Before they become partners, there are no rules to bend.”
“That’s semantics, Nathan.”
“No, that’s business.”
He helped her from the corner of the desk. When she stood, she momentarily lost her balance on her brand new, low-heeled shoes. She tilted slightly forward into Nathan and the roll of plans got crushed in between them. For Melinda, time stood still. She had yearned for days to be this close to him, and now that she was, she was terrified.
Glancing down at the flattened roll of paper, Melinda gasped in horror. “Oh, no. I smooshed your plans.”
Nathan lowered his face to hers. “Yeah, you sure did.”
When his lips were just inches from hers, an abrupt knock on the door made Melinda back away.
“Mr. Cole,” a woman called out as she entered the room.
A very short, round woman with a bright red face, gray curly hair, and happy blue eyes was standing in the doorway, staring at them. Wearing a dowdy gray skirt and ruffled white blouse with black tennis shoe
s, Melinda pondered what such a woman could have been hired by Nathan to do.
“Ah, Edna.” Nathan moved away from Melinda. “Edna Barker, I would like you to meet my new assistant, Melinda Harris.”
Edna waddled forward with her hand outstretched. “So happy to meet you, dear. I’m glad you’re going to give this man some help. Me, as well. I’ve been telling Mr. Cole for months that he needs two secretaries, not just me.” She took Melinda’s hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Hope you’re all settled in next door?”
As Melinda let go of Edna’s chubby hand, a waft of the older woman’s very sweet perfume accosted her nose. “Yes, Ms. Barker, I’m all settled in,” Melinda assured her as she tried to breathe with restraint.
Edna flourished her hand playfully in the air. “I’m Edna, sweetie, just Edna. You let me know if you ever need anything. I’m in apartment 310, and my door is always open.”
“Thank you, Edna. That’s very kind.”
“Kind, hell.” Edna plopped down a five-gallon black purse on the smaller cherry-stained desk by the door. “We’re all family here at The Shallows.”
Nathan groaned. “I hate it when you call the building by that name, Edna. Knowing the history of this place is bad enough without being reminded of it by that awful name.”
Edna chuckled, a light, tinkling sort of laugh that did not match her boisterous exterior. “Mr. Cole hates it when we call this old warehouse The Shallows. He thinks it’s a creepy name.”
“It is creepy, Edna.” Nathan asserted as he put his squashed plans on his desk.
“But you’re fascinated by the history of this place, Mr. Cole, admit it. Why else would you have that collection of gruesome relics on your wall? I suspect the history behind this building is the reason you bought The Shallows in the first place.” She turned her eyes to Melinda. “Mr. Cole is a pre-Civil War history nut.”
“Not a nut, just interested,” he disputed from behind his desk. “There’s a difference, Edna. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Nathan?”
“Mr. Cole is proper. I’m sure Melinda insists on calling you Mr. Cole, as well, don’t you, Melinda?”
Melinda turned to Nathan, grinning. “Yes, Edna, I think Mr. Cole is proper.”
Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series Page 9
