Red Letter Nights

by Alison Kent; Karen Anders; Jeanie London

  “No. Do you want to go?”

  He brought her down against his hard, muscled chest. “No. I don’t, Sexy Elf.”

  “How did you know it was me?” She absently caressed his chest with her hand.

  “Your perfume.” He kissed the top of her head. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What would that be?”

  “I wanted it to be you.”

  “I was worried when you didn’t come home,” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “I worked the hostage situation.”

  His breathing increased. She instantly felt nervous again. “So everyone is okay?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned over and placed her forearms on his chest and leaned into them, gazed up at him, a question on her tongue.

  “Sleep now. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning,” he said effectively curtailing anything else she wanted to ask.

  Chloe sighed. Pushing him wasn’t going to make him open up. She could feel his resistance.

  She snuggled down against him and closed her eyes, but she was very aware it was a while before Jack slept.

  4

  JACK WOKE in Chloe’s arms. She had herself wrapped around him, her sweet face pressed against his back. He gently shifted until he could look at her. She continued to sleep. He continued to watch her and thought he’d never seen a woman more at peace than Chloe.

  Her life here in the court was idyllic. He came from a much more chaotic part of New Orleans. One that required he be a street fighter just to survive. Taken in by the illusion they could make the world a better place to live, he and his brother had joined the NOPD. Christien had been a damn fine cop, but that boy hadn’t been able to handle the rules and regulations the law required. He’d chafed at the system, claiming it worked against the police more than it helped them.

  Jack knew the system was flawed, still, it was the system they had. And he was loathe to leave it.

  Christien seemed to have settled down as a P.I., but Jack wasn’t convinced that his brother was happy now that he was no longer a cop. Jack guessed that Christien couldn’t let go his former profession. Using a lot of contacts in the police department to get the information he needed to do his job effectively kept him connected.

  Chloe shifted and a lock of her red curly hair fell across her beautiful face. He reached over and took it between his fingers, rubbing the softness.

  She opened her green eyes and smiled so sweetly, he leaned over and kissed her mouth.

  “Good morning, handsome,” she said, her eyes still sleepy.

  “Are you one of those cheerful morning people?” he said with mock disgust.

  “’Fraid so, mister. I pop out of bed with a smile on my face and whistle a merry tune while I’m talking to the birds and little woodland creatures.”

  He chuckled. “Is it contagious?”

  “It could be. If you hang around more often, you too could be talking to the birds yourself.”

  “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He smiled.

  His cell phone rang and he reached across her to fumble for it in the pocket of his shorts.

  “Hello,” he said, his voice raspy. “Chris. What’s up?”

  He settled back against the fluffy pillows.

  Chloe slipped out of bed completely naked and stretched. Enjoying the view, he slowly slid his gaze upward. His mouth went dry as he took in curvaceous hips, a slim waist, and breasts, perfectly rounded, tipped with succulent pale pink nipples. She bent over and picked up a flowered robe off the floor. Shrugging into it, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled like an angel—a direct contradiction to her blatantly seductive pose. Jack lost his mind.

  “Jack? Jack!”

  “Sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?” he said slipping easily into Cajun French.

  “Jolie’s been trying to call you. You know how little sisters can be. I figured you were working that bank hostage scene. You okay?”

  “Feeling great.”

  “Call her, she’s worried.”

  “I will.”

  “You’re going over to père’s on Christmas Eve, right?”

  “Plan on it. I’m bringing someone with me,” he said. He hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth, but he wanted her to meet his father. He was sure that Gerard Castille would like Chloe Matthews very much.

  “You are? Would she have vibrant red hair and the prettiest green eyes this side of the delta?” The woman in question came out of the bathroom. She twisted her strawberry blond hair into a topknot with an enameled chopstick, smiled at him again and kissed his forehead as she walked past the bed, her soft, captivating scent lingered after she passed.

  “She would,” he replied, feeling an almost caveman-like need to physically protect the jewel he’d found. “Don’t tell me you’re interested because you are too late brother.”

  “Non. I have my eye on that pretty little waitress.”

  “She looks like a handful.”

  “I sure hope so. You should have Chloe bring her gumbo and père can decide if it’s better than his.” His brother covered the phone and Jack could hear muffled conversation. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

  “Are you working?”

  “Yeah, so I’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”

  “I’ll be there. Be safe.”

  Jack lay in Chloe’s bed and took stock of her bedroom. The bedding was covered in a sumptuous lime-green quilt made of smooth, delicate silk with a soft cotton blanket, and comfortable sheets beneath. The wrought-iron bed frame supporting his back had a matching footboard with intertwined flowers, pure New Orleans. On the bedside table were many different crystals, a blue beaded voodoo doll and white candles burned down to almost nothing. The scent of lavender pervaded the room. His Chloe was a metaphysical woman. It would be another layer of tempting personality to discover.

  “Hey,” she said from the doorway. “Are you going to join me in the kitchen? I love to talk as I cook.”

  He swung out of bed, watching as her green eyes ignited from within when she took in his naked form. “You are beautiful.”

  He smiled and looked at her, then gestured toward the table. “Fear evil voodoo spirits?”

  “Don’t scoff. I think Captain Dampier walks the court at night.”

  “Dampier? He’s dead.”

  “Not all things pass into the afterlife.”

  “Chloe, ghosts don’t exist.”

  “This one does and he’s under a powerful spell.”

  “Gris-gris? Like in a curse? If he’s under the spell, then he’s probably harmless.”

  “When I sense him, he’s not alone. The feeling I get from this other is…malevolent. So, I take precautions.”

  “You sense things like a psychic?”

  “I can see right away that you’re a skeptic, but you can’t deny there’s energy in what we did last night. In the very air we breathe right now. Why not believe that the spirit exists after our mortal bodies succumb to death?”

  He clasped her around the waist and settled her into his lap. “I can’t deny that energy, Chloe. But voodoo curses?”

  “I can’t believe that you’ve lived in the bayou and don’t believe in curses. What kind of self-respecting Cajun are you?”

  “I believe people think there are such things, but I live in the real world that’s curse enough.”

  Her eyes softened and she cupped his jaw. “Do you want to talk about that?”

  He felt all the pain, loneliness and doubts crowd at the back of his throat. The scent of this woman, her magical green eyes and silky hair made him long to release all the pressure of holding all those emotions at bay. He closed his eyes to get himself under control. He couldn’t bring that evil into her bedroom. He shook his head. “Nothing but ugliness there.”

  He turned his head and saw the painting above her bed. It was a watercolor in a circular pattern, the background bisecting the painting with turquoise above and midnight blue below. Vibrant color mixed a
nd blended to form a feast for the eyes.

  “What’s that painting?”

  Chloe looked up at it. “I haven’t had time to paint since I opened the café. Too busy. Same with the potpourri in the corner there on my desk. I used to mix it and sell it at the café, but now I don’t have time.”

  “You did this painting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there a story behind it?”

  “You’re changing the subject, aren’t you? It’s the chakras.”

  “A what?”

  “Chakras means wheel in Sanskrit and corresponds to seven essential psycho-physical aspects of man.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “Places on the body. The third chakra is located in the solar-plexus.” She touched his chest, outlining his pectoral muscles as if the tip of her finger was dangerous to his skin. “It corresponds to the element of fire, the color yellow and holds important aspects of willpower, self-confidence, forming relationships, social identification and the drive for power and achievement.”

  “How can you tell if this particular chakra is not working right?”

  “Lack of self-confidence, low self-esteem, inner discontent and restlessness and the suppression of emotions.”

  Jack didn’t want to go down that slippery slope. “Is there one for sex?”

  Chloe smiled and laughed softly, the ripeness of it like a berry on his lips, the tantalizing juices sweet and tart all at once. He wanted to hear that sound again. “You would be interested in that.”

  “Well, is there?”

  “Yes, there is. Both females and males have a root chakra where all energy is focused, for you, it’s chakra one.”

  He raised his brows. “You bet it’s number one.”

  She smiled quickly. Her hand trailed down his body to his abdomen and he sucked in a breath at the heat of her touch. “Here,” she said, stroking his stomach, brushing over his genitals. “And here.”

  Slipping her hand to his lower back, she breathed, “And here. For me, it’s chakra two and is associated with water and the color red.”

  Heat blossomed in his groin and his cock hardened.

  “No problems there,” she said softly. “Have you ever tried Tantric sex?”

  “No.”

  “Want to?”

  “There’s only one answer to a question like that.”

  She laughed again, the sound like tinkling chimes. She moved off his lap and settled into the middle of the bed. Patting the space in front of her, she said, “Sit here and cross your legs.”

  “You’re not going to make me chant.”

  She laughed again and realized he was addicted to the sound.

  “No, silly.” She removed her robe.

  When he reached out to her, she said, “No, no touching yet.” She sat in a cross-legged position and said, “This is called soul-gazing. It’s said a woman can orgasm from this alone. Jack, look at me. The eyes are the windows to the soul and can transmit a lot of sexual energy.”

  “Chloe, I’m not sure I’m the right type of person for this.”

  “You don’t have to be, Jack. Just open yourself up to new possibilities. Look into my eyes and let me look into yours.”

  “Into my soul?”

  “Yes, if you’ll let me.”

  Since he was sure this was going to be some kind of sexual game, he smiled roguishly and nodded. “Eye contact and the big O-mmmmmm. I’m ready.”

  She looked at him trying to suppress a laugh. “Get serious.”

  His eyes locked with hers and the humor quickly left him. For a moment he stared at her, then he seemed to sink, as if he were going under into the deep depths of an emerald pool.

  Power surged around him, the energy flowing from her and back again. His energy met hers and blended like vibrant colors mixed on a rich red canvas, achingly beautiful to watch. His body tingled and throbbed, pleasure running like notes on his skin, playing a song of desire. “Chloe,” he breathed softly.

  “Look into my eyes, Jack. Just look.”

  He welcomed the rush of adrenaline spiking through his veins, his heart pumping hard in his chest in thrilling anticipation of the fantasy unfolding before him.

  His excitement sped, warring with his need to touch her. But true to his promise he kept his hands and body immobile.

  He looked deep and discovered that she was a generous person, one who overextended herself. One with a beautiful soul.

  Chloe’s eyelids drooped, her breathing increased as a moan escaped her lips. Instead of that jade sea, he was now immersed in a volcanic fury, with purple flames licking at him. The power let go of him with a heave.

  Chloe’s eyes widened, her pupils dilated until there was almost no green left, the black swallowing him whole. She arched her back, her nipples forming into stiff nubs. Her whole body pulsed so hard, Jack felt the vibrations all through his legs, groin and abdomen.

  He closed his eyes because he didn’t want to come. It shocked him how close he was to the edge.

  “Damn,” he muttered, reaching for her. When his hands slid over her thigh, Chloe cried out, flowing toward him like water. The thick moist air made it all but impossible to breathe. A tropical storm, water pounding, heat rising. Fire and water mixing to make…steam.

  He pulled her beneath him and couldn’t stop. He touched her hair, his fingers combing through, tangling in the luxurious strands, a mass of orange flame.

  With the colors of the rainbow dancing in his eyes, he lowered his mouth to hers, thrusting into her at the same time, unable to stop the greed in his body from overcoming his need to pleasure her.

  But even in his greed he gave, his pulsing shaft going deep into her wet heat.

  A groan ripped out of him as his body shuddered. The feel of her hands on his back was like a sensual goad that made his hips move faster, his skin sensitized beyond belief.

  “Chloe.” He said her name on a groan. “It’s too much.” Fears unbidden leaped through him like blinding light. Sending him careening.

  “No. It’s all right,” she breathed into his ear. “It’s all right.”

  Her eyes locked on to his, open, dark with passion, filled with a steadiness that grounded him. Beneath the passion, he saw a trust that humbled him.

  Rocked to the core, he held her close. His heart thundering against hers, his body taut as a wire. Fears melted away. There was no room for them when his body was vibrating from dozens of more vivid sensations. When he took her to the peak again, he rode out the storm, glorying in it, desperate for more.

  He held back, gaining his pleasure from hers, stunned by the way she responded to each touch, to each kiss. Her beauty was his, her sincere and generous heart as well. With the breath laboring in his lungs, the blood pounding in his head, his body screaming out for release, he thrust into her with a motion bred from a dark need inside him, reaching for the purity of the light he saw in her. Vanquishing the pain that pulsed in rhythm to his surging blood, an ache that festered in his soul. Knowing that this woman could heal him if he let her throbbed through him.

  Deeper, he slipped deeper, filling her, rocking her toward that final crest. When she cried out, her body shuddering, he buried his face in her hair and let himself follow.

  THE SMELL of breakfast woke Jack, and he followed his nose to her kitchen.

  Wrapping his arms around Chloe’s waist, he said against her ear. “I promised to make you breakfast.”

  “It would give me a whole lot more pleasure to cook for you.” She turned in his arms and smiled up at him and he felt as he never had before.

  “Don’t you get sick of cooking? Working seven days a week in that café has to tire you out.”

  “No, in fact, I opened a café so that I could cook all the time.”

  “When do you do things for yourself? You mentioned painting and your potpourri mixing. These are things you enjoy, right?”

  She shrugged. “Along with yoga. But when you own your own business it dictates the hou
rs.”

  “Sure, but you could hire help to give you a hand.”

  “I’m used to working a lot. I had a big family and my father died when I was nine. I helped my mother with four siblings, including a set of twins, so a horde of starving people is right up my alley.”

  “Nine years old?”

  “No choice. After my father died, my mother had to work and I needed to pitch in.”

  “How old are your brothers and sisters?”

  “My sisters Lacy and Savannah were seven and five and my twin brothers Cade and Cameron were three.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Lacy teaches archeology at LSU, very studious. She loves to dig in the dirt for old bones and such. Savannah plans wild bachelorette parties, enough said there. Cade owns a crawfish business, so I get my crawfish wholesale. Cameron just got out of the Marines. He works for the government and travels a lot.”

  “Sounds like they all did fine.”

  “They did and I’m very proud of them.”

  “So I guess you all have a big Christmas get-together.”

  “Sure, a big meal on Christmas Day.”

  “Would you like to see how Cajuns celebrate Christmas?”

  “Are you inviting me?”

  “Sure. My family isn’t as big as yours. You’ve met my brother, Christien and I have a sister, Jolie. She’s a lawyer, but don’t hold that against her.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go to yours if you come to mine.”

  “That’s a deal, Ms. Matthews. Now, can I help you with breakfast?”

  “No. Sit down and tell me about your two tense days.”

  “Nothing to tell. We beat the bad guys.”

  She turned from the stove and frowned. “I’m curious about your job.”

  “I go in when there’s a crisis situation and hostages are involved. Otherwise, it’s routine, like standing a post.”

  “I’m not asking for the specifics about what you do, but how you do it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You showed up at my door obviously needing…comfort.”

  “I wanted you.”

  She sat down next to him. “Do you think that sex isn’t comfort? It’s a release of tension, sure. We do have sexual tension, but it’s more complicated than that.”