Bourbon Street Blues (9 page)

“What?” Holly pushed herself up onto her elbows, the quilt sliding down her body.

Voice tight, he asked, “Just how old were those condoms?”

Panic flared, but she managed to keep her voice calm as she asked, “Why?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, and even in the dim light, it was easy to read the disbelief in his dark blue eyes. “Because this one broke.”

I
NSIDES JUMPING
,
Parker looked at the naked woman stretched out atop the antique quilt and tried to find the pleasure he’d known only moments ago.

But it was gone.

As if it had never been.

God, he was an idiot. Had she set him up somehow?

“What do you mean,
broke?
” she asked.

“Just what I said.” He stalked over to the bathroom, flicked on a light that speared into the room behind him. He tossed the remains of the condom away, then turned and stood in the open doorway. Slapping one hand on the doorjamb, he curled his fingers into the wood and held on tight as a few simple truths rocked him.

Despite what he’d hoped, he had to ask himself if, at the most basic level, Holly was no different from Frannie. Both were out for whatever they could get, and apparently neither cared how they went about getting it.

He looked at Holly and his mouth went dry. Fury? Desire? He couldn’t be sure.

She sat naked on the edge of the mattress, tugging at the quilt, trying to jerk it up and over her. “It broke? Oh, God…”

“That about covers it.”

Her tangled hair fell into her eyes and, clearly annoyed, she pushed it back. “How could the blasted thing break? I mean, the shelf life of a condom has got to be a long one.”

“So they
are
old.”

“Sort of.”

“How old?”

“They’ve been in my drawer for almost three years.”

“Three years.”

“Don’t say it like it’s a millennium. Besides,” she argued, “it’s not like I’ve had a lot of reason to go out and stock up on some new ones.” Defensive and obviously feeling the same sort of jittery nerves he was, she jumped off the bed, snatched up the quilt and wrapped it around her. Pushing her hair back from her face again with one trembling hand, she muttered, “My last boyfriend left them here. I just never threw them out and—” She stopped talking and glared at him. “Why am I apologizing to you?”

“Funny,” he snapped. “Haven’t really heard an apology.”

She jabbed one finger in his direction. “And you’re not going to.”

“Well, that’s perfect.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining a few minutes ago,” she reminded him.

True. He hadn’t been complaining. Or thinking. He sure as hell was now, though. And the thoughts racing through his mind weren’t making him any happier than she looked at the moment.

“That was then,” he said tightly. “This is now.”

She blew out a breath. “This just cannot be happening.”

“Man.” Parker shook his head as he stalked across the room and grabbed up his slacks. He couldn’t believe this. He should have known better than to get close to somebody again. Damn it. He’d been an idiot and now he was going to have to pay the price. Because of
her.

No.

He corrected himself immediately. This was his own damn fault. He’d made the mistake of letting his hormones drag him around. And why wasn’t she as upset about this as he was?

“You’re really something,” he said.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean that in a complimentary way.”

“Bingo.”

“I don’t see why you’re so mad,” she snapped, kicking one of his shoes at him. “
I’m
the one who should be freaked out here.”

“Actually, I was just thinking that. But you’re not, are you?” He zipped his slacks, grabbed his socks and tugged them on, talking while he dressed. “You’re right. You should be ‘freaked out.’ But I’m not seeing that.” He stared at her for a long minute. “In fact, you don’t even look surprised. Now why would that be, I wonder.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Oh, I’m surprised by a lot of things right now—not the least of which is just how fast you can morph from tender lover to super jerk.”

She took a step, stumbled on the quilt, then bent and grabbed a handful of it away from her feet. “If you’re
trying
to make me mad, you’re doing a good job.”

A damn good actress, he thought. He’d hoped she was different. Believed she was someone he could trust. Someone who could share his passion for music and understand the dreams he was trying to build.

But he should have remembered the lessons Frannie had taught him.

“See, that’s the thing, Holly. I shouldn’t have to try to make you mad. You should be as furious, as concerned, as I am right now. But you’re not.” He stepped into his shoes, grabbed his shirt and yanked it on. Leaving it hanging open, he closed the distance between them. He grabbed her shoulders and held on tight. Those smoky-gray eyes of hers locked on his face.

“So I have to think you’re not upset because you
knew
that condom was going to break. You wanted it to break. Hell, for all I know, you arranged it.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you nuts?”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Nuts, no. Pissed off? Oh, yeah.”

She yanked herself free of his grip, and now those gray eyes of hers were like storm clouds, filled with thunder and lightning, just looking for a place to cut loose.

“You wanted me angry? Well you got it, buster.” She staggered back just a bit as she fought for balance. Her hair hung down into her eyes and she tossed her head to clear her vision long enough to glare knives at him. “Why would I want to sabotage a condom? Why would I want to risk my own health?”

“Please.” Parker stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. And maybe he hadn’t. At least, not the
real woman beneath the facade. “No doubt you did your homework and somehow found out I’m healthy. What you were planning was, to get pregnant. To trick me into fathering your child.”

“What?”

He smirked. “You should work on your delivery. You don’t really have ‘shocked outrage’ nailed yet.”

“You bastard.”

He flinched at the whispered oath, but buried his guilt under the layers of anger still cloaking his soul. “Ah, now the fury. A little late, but very effective.”

“How can you even say that to me?”

He didn’t want to look into her eyes. Didn’t want to see the hurt there. Didn’t want to feel badly about inflicting that pain. Because if he did, he might start forgetting about why he was so pissed. And God knew, he couldn’t afford to let down his guard again.

“You’re a piece of work,” he said, determined to keep the righteous fires burning within. He checked his pants’ pockets, then slanted wild glances over the floor until he spotted the keys that had fallen free. Grabbing them, he straightened and gave her a slow, disgusted look. “But damn, you’re really good. You almost had me believing—”

“Are you even aware of how insulting you are?”
Her question came in a deliberately calm tone. But he could see her body nearly vibrating with tightly banked emotions.

“I’m suddenly aware of a lot of things.”

“I don’t think so,” Holly said, taking a step toward him. She had to yank the quilt up and out of her way again.

She looked like a rumpled goddess about to toss lightning bolts at a sinner.

“I don’t think so at all,” she accused him. “You know, birth control isn’t a hundred percent effective even at the best of times.”

“Maybe,” he said tightly, “but it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a condom explode.”

Her full, tempting mouth flattened into a grim slash of disappointment. “And so you’ve cleverly deduced that I somehow engineered that. Wow. You found me out. You discovered my ‘evil plan.’” She rubbed her hands together and would have twirled a moustache if she’d had one. “I’ve been planning this for years. Ever since the last bastard I trusted turned me inside out, in fact. See, he left those condoms behind and I’ve been saving them for a night just like tonight.”

He jerked his chin up. “This isn’t a joke.”

“No,” she said. “It’s too important to be a joke.
And now that you’ve found me out, I think I should get a little applause for how well my ‘plan’ turned out. I worked like a dog on those condoms, Parker. Every day I put each of them in the microwave for twenty seconds.” She held up a hand when he would have spoken. “Not too long, or they’d melt. Just long enough to mess with their molecular structure. To break down the latex content a little at a time so they’d shatter at just the right moment.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she rushed on again before he could. “No, no. I’m just getting to the good part. I waited and planned and schemed. Not just
any
rich man would do, you know. It had to be
you,
because you’re just so bloody perfect.”

He winced.

“First I seduced you by going to your place of business every day just to stare at you—” She stopped. “Oh, wait. I didn’t do that.
You
did.”

Parker frowned at that reminder and started to feel just a little uneasy at the way he’d been acting. “Holly…”

But she wasn’t finished.

“Then, when the time was just right, I made sure you chose the weakest of the condoms—couldn’t leave that to random chance now, could I? Then, all
I had to do was force you to make love to me. To hold you at gunpoint and take advantage of your virtue. You fell right into my wicked clutches.”

“Very entertaining.” He glared down at her and swallowed back what might have been a very tiny nugget of regret.

“Makes as much sense as your version,” she snapped. “Why, it absolutely amazes me that you’re able to walk around upright while balancing a head that big on your shoulders.”

He didn’t want to feel guilty. Didn’t want to rethink his position. It made his world a lot safer—a lot more comfortable if he just kept thinking that she’d tricked him. Then he wouldn’t have to risk caring. Now what he had to do was get out of here.

“That’s it. I’m done. I’m leaving.”

“Damn right you are.” She stalked past him, kicking the hem of the quilt out of her way as she stomped across the room to the hallway and the living room beyond. He was right behind her.

“And trust me on this, Parker James, if tonight’s little episode
does
result in a pregnancy—God help me—I won’t ask anything of you.”

“Right.”

Holly spun around to face him again. She was shaking with the strength of the anger and disap
pointment and regret rushing through her. How had the night turned into such a mess?

She’d felt, for a few glorious moments, that they’d connected on a deeper level than the physical. But clearly, that had been just her own little fantasy.

“Whatever you think of me,” she said, steadying her voice deliberately, “I want you to know I resent everything you said to me tonight. And one of these days, when you wake up and remember what an ass you were—you’re going to wish there was a way to apologize to me.”

She yanked the door open. “But just so you know…there isn’t.”

He didn’t speak. For a few seconds, it looked as if he wanted to, but then he thought better of it and stormed out. Holly stood at the open door and listened to his hurried footsteps on the stairs and the slam of the door as he left.

Only then did she close her own door, careful not to slam it herself. She turned the lock and leaned back against the solid wood. A well of grief opened up inside her and she closed her eyes against the sharp, sweet ache of it. How did she do it? she wondered. How did she manage to pick men who only wanted to stomp on her heart?

And why did she keep allowing it to happen?

One hand dropped to her flat belly and a shiver danced down her spine. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the ceiling and really thought about what had happened tonight.

Pregnant?

Surely not.

Her luck couldn’t possibly be that bad.

“H
E LEFT HER
apartment in the Garden District at—” the private detective checked his notes “—three forty-three in the morning and went directly to his own residence. He didn’t leave again until this morning when he reported to work at James Coffees.”

Frannie leaned back in the Louis XIV chair and eyed the man sitting across from her in a splash of morning sunshine. An older man, Antoine Martin was a retired detective from the New Orleans P.D. He’d opened his own investigation firm four years ago and come highly recommended by both Justine and several other friends. He was discreet, thorough and fast.

Of course, the information he was bringing her didn’t make Frannie feel like breaking out in song, but it was information she would need if she wanted to hang on to Parker.

And she did.

“Excellent,” Frannie said, smiling at the man who sat watching her through careful blue eyes. “Now, I want you to watch the redhead.”

“Ms. Carlyle.”

“Whatever.” She waved an impeccably manicured hand. “Keep an eye on her. See where she goes. Who she sees. What she does when she’s not singing. I want to know everything about her…past, present and future.”

“Got it.” He stood, tucked his phone into his jacket pocket and headed for the front door. “I’ll have a report for you in a few days.”

“Perfect,” she murmured as she lifted her Meissen tea cup and took a delicate sip.

“Y
OU WOULD HAVE DONE
better to stay clear of that man,” Shana said, watching Holly with a guarded eye.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that,” Holly assured her, and picked up a still steaming hush puppy. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed, sighed in bliss and shook her head. “Shana, you are the world’s best cook.”

“So you say every time you want to change the subject.”

“Guilty.” Holly dropped into her place at the
Hayes’ kitchen table. “Don’t suppose you’ll let me get away with it just this once?”

“Don’t suppose I will.” Shana set the plate of hush puppies in the center of the table and took a seat opposite Holly. “You think that I can’t tell just by looking at you something’s changed?”

Holly looked down at the tabletop. To stall, she grabbed another hush puppy and nibbled at it. She hadn’t been lying. Shana’s hush puppies were phenomenal. “Sometimes you’re too intuitive, you know?”

“A mother’s best weapon.” She folded her hands on the table and waited.

Holly knew Shana’s patience. She’d been at the business end of it many times over the years. The woman could outwait anybody. And with just a knowing look from her, the most stoic person in the world would be spilling their guts sooner or later.