by J. C. Wilder
“How are ye this evening?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
Damn, he was following her.
“Fine, and you?” she asked, keeping her tone light and impersonal.
“Excellent. I trust ye slept well?”
“Very well, thank you.” Vivian slipped through the swinging door and into the aromatic chaos of the Chat kitchen. “And you?”
“I was a wee bit…restless.”
“That’s too bad.” She strove to keep her tone bland. “Have you tried warm milk?”
He chuckled. “I can think of much more interesting things to do in bed than drink warm milk.”
She shivered at his velvety tone. “Oh, do you read in bed as well?” Her voice came out sounding breathless.
“Among other things.” He gave her a heated smile and her insides fluttered. Hastily she turned away to open the dessert case.
“You knit? Who would’ve guessed?”
“Well, I can think of things to do with scarves, but none of them have to do with knitting.”
Vivian’s hand shook and she almost dropped the cheesecake as an image of him tied to her bed flashed in her mind. She scowled and let the door slam shut. Why was she getting so tied up in knots over him? She was a woman of the world, much older and experienced than he. She’d taken lovers when Sinjin was still wearing short pants. Just because he was wickedly handsome and built for sin didn’t mean she couldn’t handle him with her hands tied behind her back.
Tied…
“Come back to my place for a drink,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She moved to the next cooler, which contained the toppings, whipped cream and other dessert condiments.
“Why not?” he asked, moving with her.
“I’m an employee—”
“Ye and I both know that ye’re a temporary employee and this is a lark. Ye need this job as much as I need to drill a hole in my head. Admit it, at least to yerself, why ye’re working here.”
She was enjoying the completely new perspective working at the Chat was giving her…
Liar. She was working here because he was too handsome for words and she wanted him in her bed.
“I—”
“Mr. St. James,” one of the club bartenders approached and gave her an apologetic smile. “We have a problem backstage that requires your attention.”
“I’ll be right there, Tom.” Sinjin brushed his finger along her jaw, his touch raising gooseflesh along her arms. “Think about it, get back to me later.”
Vivian’s gaze followed his retreating back, very aware of the quizzical gazes of the other employees. She opened the cooler door and stared blindly at the array of condiments.
“Everything okay?” Tracey approached.
“Great, thanks.”
“I saw you talking to Sinjin, I just wanted to make sure.” Her smile was secretive. “Also, you’re a little flushed, you might want to stick your head in the cooler for a few seconds.”
Vivian’s hands flew to her warm cheeks as Tracey turned away, whistling “What A Difference A Day Makes”.
Damn. She dropped her hands and stared blindly at the array of plastic containers. This wouldn’t do at all. No, not at all. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and straightened, once again under control. She reached into the cooler only to realize that she’d forgotten what she was reaching for.
Chapter Five
Vivian was waiting for him.
Sinjin’s heart raced as he went through the motions of closing up. In the past he’d wanted many different women, but never with the all-consuming rush Vivian ignited within him. Only Bliss had inspired such a depth of feeling that was close to what he felt now.
He waited for the familiar pain to strike, instead, a mellow, almost wistful feeling whispered over his heart. He mentally shook himself. Why was he comparing Vivian to Bliss? Bliss was the love of his life, Vivian was a woman he wanted to seduce. Hell, she was practically a stranger. Sooner or later they would part ways and, if he had it his way, they’d part with smiles on their faces. That’s all it was, lust. Emotions weren’t going to play a role in this relationship. He wouldn’t allow it.
He turned off the lights in the nightclub, casting the cavernous room into darkness with the exception of a single light on the stage. Vivian was a beautiful woman who knew the score. There was no danger in him losing another piece of his already fractured heart.
Removing his apron, he tossed it into the laundry bag as he entered the restaurant. Vivian stood framed in the doorway leading to Bourbon Street. A soft breeze blew the tendrils that had escaped from her once-neat twist. She was still dressed in her work outfit, but she’d changed into a pair of tennis shoes and her backpack was strapped on her back.
“Are ye ready?” he asked.
She turned, her smile wary, but she nodded.
He flicked off the restaurant lights and picked up a set of keys from the bar. After setting the alarm, he ushered her outside to where a white carriage waited.
“For us?” she asked.
“I was keeping yer tired feet in mind,” he grinned.
She laughed as the driver opened the miniscule door for them. “I changed shoes tonight so my feet don’t hurt nearly as bad as they did last night.” She slid her pack off and set it on the floor of the carriage.
Sinjin settled into the soft leather seat beside her, aware of the warmth of her skin. He slid an arm around her shoulders, anchoring her to his side as they set off down the dim street. Beneath his arm she felt tense and he had the feeling if she could, she would’ve pulled away from him. Why was she so reticent to have him near her?
“No foot rub this evening?” he asked.
“No, not this evening.”
Most of the crowds had dissipated, leaving only a few die-hard partiers on the street corners as they savored the last few drops of their cocktails. As the carriage turned off Bourbon, the sounds faded until the only sound was the clop of horse hooves and the rustle of the breeze.
“So, how did you end up owning the Chat?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Judging from the rushed, breathless tone of her voice, she’d practiced that question in her mind for hours. No, she wasn’t nervous, not at all.
“I came to New Orleans last November. I didna have a purpose in mind other than to explore. I’d heard so much about this city and I have friends here so it seemed as good a place as any to live.” They passed a local haunted house and he pointed to the lit attic window where the ghost supposedly lived. Slowly, he could feel her relaxing into his one-armed embrace.
“One evening I was walking along Bourbon and came across the Chat. It was run down and ragged, but appeared to be drawing a medium-sized crowd. I went inside and caught the show and decided I liked the ambiance of the place. Due to the location I knew with some work, it could be a real moneymaker.” He laughed. “I met with the owner the next night and found out that he was going to put it up for sale and move to Florida with his new wife.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. Less than a week later, I was the new owner.”
Vivian gave a low laugh. “That’s what I call good timing.”
“Aye. I’ve not regretted it.”
“It’s a lovely place, you should be very proud.”
“Thank ye.”
“And what place gave you the accent?”
“Scotland. I lived there for many, many years though I was born in England.”
She chuckled, a soft breathy sound that went straight to his gut. “You aren’t old enough to live anywhere for many, many years.”
Little did she know…
“How old do ye think I am?” he asked.
Vivian turned her head and their gazes met and hers was speculative. “Well, you look like you’re in your mid-twenties. However, I would say you’re thirtyish.”
It was his turn to laugh. “So ye say.”
“Am I close?”
“Nae.”
“Well I can’t be that far off.”
He shrugged. “Age is a state of mind.”
Vivian gave an indelicate snort. “That is something only the young would say.”
“As if ye’re ancient.”
“Older than you.”
“I doubt that.”
“How old do you think I am?” Her tone was challenging.
It was his turn to contemplate her lovely face. “Well, ye’re older than I’d originally thought ye were. Ye have these wonderful laugh lines here.” He brushed his lips over the corner of her eye where the telltale lines resided. “I’d pegged ye for yer late twenties. But I’ve come to discover that ye have a wisdom that far surpasses that of a twenty-year-old.
“Ye’re verra sure of yourself and yer place in the world and that only comes with living life. Very few twenty-year-olds have that much confidence in themselves.”
She cleared her throat and he had the distinct impression that his words had disturbed her on some level. “And your final verdict is?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Not hardly,” she snickered.
In the darkness, her eyes sparkled with amusement. Those laugh lines told the world that this was a woman who’d laughed a great deal in her life, but there was an equal measure of sadness lurking in the depths of her gaze as well.
“How close am I?” he challenged.
“I’m forty-four.”
He shook his head. “Ye dinna look forty-four.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I look forty-four.”
“Ye’re beautiful no matter yer age.”
“Sinjin—”
“But ye know that, don’t ye? Ye know that ye’re beautiful.” He reached for her hand, his fingers curling around her wrist. “Men have told ye this all yer life, but it never mattered to ye, did it?”
“Don’t—”
She licked her lips nervously.
He pulled her closer, the heat of her skin sinking into his, warming him from the inside out. The scent of her perfume and the night air swirled about them in a dizzying combination. His thumb detected the mad beating of her heart as he lazily stroked her wrist.
“How can I not?” He released her wrist to stroke the line of her jaw and throat as his head dipped and his mouth grazed hers.
“Please don’t,” her voice broke and he could feel her trembling.
He pulled back, caught by the pain and fear he heard in her voice. Had a man hurt her? Why was she was so afraid to let him touch her? At the restaurant, she’d been quick to toss a comeback in his face, now she could barely look him in the eyes.
He slid his hand under her chin, forcing her face up until their gazes met. “I’ll not hurt ye,” he whispered.
Her eyes gleamed with unspoken pain. “How do you know I won’t hurt you?”
Could she hurt him? No, he wouldn’t allow it. He was the master of this situation and he would make sure neither of them were hurt.
He shrugged as he stroked the delicate line of her jaw, marveling over her soft skin. “I’m not afraid.”
“How can you take that chance? When is enough, enough?” A tear spilled over her dark lashes.
When was enough, enough? At what point did he decide to never allow another woman to touch his heart as Bliss had?
“When ye can no longer breathe without wanting to cry. When every word ye utter becomes nonsense and ye only want to walk away from yer life. That is when enough is enough.” He released her chin and pulled her into his arms. For a moment he thought she’d resist, then she leaned into him, her body naturally relaxing against his, her cheek against his chest. “That’s when ye get off yer backside and make a change for the better.”
She responded with a watery-sounding sniff. He luxuriated in the feeling of her in his arms. He never was one to want to cuddle with a woman. He enjoyed sitting on the couch, maybe holding hands and exchanging a few kisses. He’d never felt the need to wrap himself around her like a blanket, but strangely, with Vivian, it felt comfortable.
“Are ye feeling better?” he asked.
She tipped her head back. “Aye.”
“Ye’re mocking me, woman.” He fixed his expression into one he hoped was ferocious.
She smiled. “Yes, I did. What are you going to do about it?”
Before he could think twice, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. He felt her jolt of surprise and her body stiffened. Willing her to open for him, he nibbled at her lower lip and held his breath as he waited for her response. Would she refuse him?
Her lips parted beneath his, her taste overwhelming as he sank into her warmth.
Yes…
He nipped at her tongue, eliciting a sound of surprise from her. Heat spiraled through his body as her hands landed on his waist, her palms scorched his flesh. His pants felt too tight and she was so hot against him, he couldn’t think straight. He’d wanted her from the moment he first saw her and he’d spent long tormented hours in his dark sleep as he dreamed of touching her with impunity.
With a low groan, his tongue slid deep as he possessed her mouth the way he’d dreamed…
He was startled when she pushed out of his arms. She leaned against the side of the carriage. Her chest heaved with every breath and his gaze dipped lower. Her nipples showed clearly through the white shirt. She was as aroused as he, so why had she stopped?
“I have to go.” She shoved to her feet as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of her hotel. Before the driver could come around, she grabbed her bag and wrenched the door open before literally vaulting from the rig. “Thank you for the ride.” She gave a hurried wave to the driver and rushed into the bright lobby.
Blood raged through Sinjin’s veins as he watched her disappear, too shaken from their explosive kiss to think of anything coherent to say to her. He closed his eyes, wondering if he’d gone too far too fast and had made a big mistake in touching her at all.
Sinjin’s touch was assured, magical. The way he zeroed in on the areas where she needed to be touched. It was as if they’d made love hundreds of times before. Each movement of his fingers at the juncture of her thighs elicited a rush of pleasure as he stroked her needy flesh.
She spread her thighs, silently entreating him to bring her to fulfillment. That sexy, enigmatic smile curved his sensual lips, his dark eyes gleamed as he lowered his head, his lips brushing her curls as his fingers worked their magic.
“Come for me,” he commanded.
She closed her eyes, giving herself to the heat he aroused in her. Her hips shifted as his tongue breached her core—
Vivian sat up, her travel alarm clock buzzing in her ear. Heart pounding, she scowled at the device as she smacked the “off” button with her left hand. The clock fell silent and she fell against her pillows. As she moved, she became aware that it was her own right hand buried in her damp, needy flesh, not Sinjin’s.
With a growl, she pulled her hand away, her body almost immediately launching a protest. Her orgasm had been so close, she could almost taste it, taste him.
Damn, now he’d invaded her sleep.
Feeling tired and annoyed, she rolled from the bed. Stretching, her eye caught the blinking red light on the phone. A message waited for her. Her stepbrother no doubt as it was time for her biweekly check-in with him. She headed for the bathroom. She’d call him later, if she felt like it, that is.
Men!
She flicked on the light in the shabby but clean bathroom. All of her life she’d had to deal with autocratic men who wanted only to possess her for her pretty face or even prettier money.
Was that why she’d run from Sinjin last night? Because he’d told her she was beautiful? He was right when he’d said men had told her she was beautiful and it meant nothing to her. She couldn’t take credit for good genes.
Sinjin didn’t appear to need money and he didn’t know anything about hers, so that wasn’t a factor. Or had she run because, for the first time
since Marc, a man had actually reached inside her heart and forced her to feel something other than mild disdain for the male of the species?
She scowled as she picked up her toothbrush and attacked her teeth with a vengeance. Her pale face was reflected in the mirror. Dark bags had taken root under her eyes and she looked every day of her age. No way would Sinjin dare think of kissing her looking like this. A grin curved her mouth as she rinsed her toothbrush. Maybe that was the answer. If she became unattractive in his eyes, he wouldn’t think twice about wanting to kiss her. If he didn’t touch her, there was no way he could hurt her. Then again, she could just be upfront about why she didn’t want to get into a relationship with him.
She’d always been very upfront with the people in her life, especially her lovers, and she’d had no reason to be otherwise. She stared hard at the mirror image of herself. She would just tell him that she wasn’t interested in taking him as her lover—it wasn’t in her best interest.
Liar.
She walked away from the mirror to turn on the shower. It didn’t matter what she wanted, getting into a relationship wasn’t what she needed to be doing now. She pulled off her oversized sleepshirt and tossed it on the vanity, her movements jerky.
But it would certainly take the edge off your sexual frustration.
“That is the old Vivian,” she muttered as she stripped off her panties. “Not the new and improved one. I no longer use people to get what I want in life.”
You’re not using him if it’s what he wants as well.
“Shut up.” She stepped into the shower, sliding the glass door shut behind her, enclosing herself in a cocoon of steam.
Grabbing the small bottle of shampoo, she began scrubbing her hair. The scent of Sinjin swirled around her. Dismayed, she picked up the bottle she’d grabbed at the store yesterday afternoon. Reading the label, she noticed it wasn’t her usual brand but the bottles were almost exactly the same. She shook her head and set it back on the edge of the tub.
Vivian stuck her head back under the showerhead to rinse her hair, the bubbles sliding along her skin in rivers of white foam. Grabbing her soap, she lathered up, the scent of orange and ginger mingled with the masculine scent of Sinjin’s shampoo.
