Deadly Secrets (7 page)

He nodded to them and the girls hooted and hollered, encouraging her, and waved at him.

“They look like my brothers.”

She glanced over. “Your brothers enjoy going drag?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed. “God no. I meant they looked like they’re having a good time.”

“They always have a good time. The one on the left with all the dark hair is Marie and the redhead is Shalon, then there’s Jif and Leigh with all the scarves.”

He thought she muttered something about damned shoes.

“So, sugar, you’ll have to bear with me, or rather with them.”

When she turned he noticed the skin under her left arm and saw there was a hint of ink next to her breast.

Now he was fascinated. What was it?

The speakers hidden in the striped green awnings played the opening chords to “I Dream of You . . .”

She hummed a few bars. “They worry.”

“It’s good to have friends who worry about you,” he told her and nodded to her friends again.

“And brothers?”

He chuckled. “Upon rare occasion.”

Hurrying footsteps made him turn so he stood in front of her. “Speaking of.”

There were two of his brothers now. Aiden and Ian, and dancing—weaving—in front of them was Brody, who was trying to hurry to—him?

“There he is!” Brody hollered from only feet away.

“And there is my entourage worried about me.”

She giggled and slid her hand into his, shocking him for a moment. But he grasped her cool hand and smiled down at her. “We are blessed, sugar.” She pointed over to the darkened corners across the street. “Some aren’t nearly as lucky.”

Homeless souls sat huddled against closed storefronts.

“See, told you he was fine.” Brody came up to his other side and slung an arm around his shoulders, almost throwing him off balance. Quin stepped to the side, careful to make certain he didn’t knock over Ella. “And lookie, guyzzzz, he’s wish a pretty girl.” Brody blinked. “I’m drunk, I’m really drunk.” He leaned over Quin and blinked at her. “Is your hair blue?” He turned to Quin. “Dude, I think her hair’s blue.”

Aiden snickered and pulled Brody off.

Ian held his hand out. “Sorry, I’m Ian, Quinlan’s older brother.”

Brody snorted. “One of ’em. Older broshers, that is. Got a bunch. Pain the ashes. Asbes. Asses.” He shook his head.

“That’s our cousin Brody,” he said to Ella and then nodded to Aiden. “And that’s Aiden.”

“How many are there?”

“Two more who are twins and God knows where, though Mom’s practically adopted two others that are with us, somewhere. Or will be. Never mind. There are a lot of us.”

Ella stuck her hand out. “I’m Ella Ferguson, nice to meet you guys.”

Aiden and Ian nodded. They were buzzing, as Ian never got more than that, if he was even that far in the inebriation realm. Man had control issues.

“You did good, man!” Brody said, swaying.

“Now that we know you’re alive and well,” Ian said, slipping an arm around Brody, “we will leave you in peace. Have fun.”

He took a deep breath and Ian shook his head. “Not babysitting. He took off after you and refused to go back in. Thus we’re wandering around the Quarter. You’re on your own.”

“He’s so gonna get some,” Brody mumbled.

Quinlan slid his eyes closed.

“We are leaving now.” Aiden took Brody’s other arm.

“Hey, you guysh. Think she has a pink-haired friend? I like pink,” Brody mumbled. “With a fluffy.” He waved his arms around his neck.

“Fluffy?” Ella asked, laughter in her voice.

“Boas,” Aiden told her, turning. “He was last accosting a bachelorette party at the Cat something or other. The women were all wearing pink boas.”

She laughed. “Fluffies.”

Ian nodded to him. “Come on, Casanova, let’s find a cab and get you home because I’m not hauling your ass there if you pass out.”

“No, Junior, we’ll leave you in the gutter,” Aiden said as they walked away.

“Fuck off, I’m not jchunior. Broooody. That’sh my name.”

They stood there watching for a moment.

“Wow,” Ella muttered. “You guys are all handsome and he’s going to feel like . . . well . . . horrible tomorrow.”

“Oh well.” He turned and led her into Café Du Monde with his hand at the small of her back, the material of her dress silky beneath his touch. He felt a shiver dance down her spine. “Sorry about that.”

She laughed. “As I said, people who care. At least your brothers left you in peace.” She motioned over to her friends, who had grabbed a table and were already eating fluffy powdered-sugar fried dough.

Then she opened her mouth and sang a few bars of the song blaring from the speakers.

They turned and made their way to a table, grabbing beignets and coffees. They settled at a little iron table.

“ . . . dream a little dream of me . . .” Her voice was husky and alluring as she sang the last few bars and settled across from him.

Just like that afternoon, interest stirred from just listening to her, watching her . . . enjoying her.

“I’ve always liked that song,” she said, grinning. “Sorry, sometimes . . . okay, lots of times I just sort of sing along with whatever song I hear.”

He smiled. Desire swirled and gripped him.

He sighed and sat back, glad that something still worked, because frankly, he was starting to worry that he’d have to get a script for Cialis or the little blue pill. When a guy didn’t find women interesting or get a hard-on when there were plenty of beauties who were interested, he worried.

Even if he hadn’t admitted that to himself before now.

But that was one worry he obviously didn’t have to keep.

She had a sexy voice, of course, he just wanted . . . to listen to her talk.

Okay, and he wanted her.

Was her skin as soft as it looked under those lights?

He wanted her.

He smiled.

Ella opened her eyes and waved to her friends across the way. His brothers were nowhere to be seen. Thankfully. Guys out on the town. But these were of a different variety. Not frat boys, not businessmen out after meetings. They were older. Clean-cut and . . . men. Two of the ones she’d met—Aiden and Ian?—had worn rings. The drunk had not. And they were all so damned good-looking.

Quinlan though, he’d looked good this afternoon. Now? Now he looked really damned good.

Dressed in slacks and a dark green button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. One hand rested on the table, the other tapped on the top of a cane. She picked up a beignet and bit into the sugary dough. She could feel his gaze on her. Feel it even as she watched his gaze quickly skim over her and then more slowly from head to toe. Not in a bad way; she had enough experience with that. No, this guy was just interested, which she already knew, or she wouldn’t be here.

Fine with her because she was interested in him. She’d thought about him all damned evening. So they’d play the interest game, because it wasn’t like it would be more than that.

If she was lucky, they’d have fun for the night. Maybe the rest of the weekend.

After that?

Well, from his watch and the shoes and the cut of his clothes, the man had money, and if Ella knew one thing, it was that men couldn’t be counted on and rich men were the worst. Not that she needed to count on them. No, indeed. If she did anything
on
him, it wouldn’t be counting. Unless it was how many times . . .

She shook her head. Good Lord.

The man oozed confidence and charm and money.

And enough sex appeal she noticed other women noticing him.

Though there was something in his eyes, something that said maybe he wasn’t as confident as he wanted to be.

Damn.

She was always a sucker for the wounded.

He’d mentioned an incident earlier today and she’d wondered what incident could shake such a clearly confident man to question himself and his purpose.

“Ella!” Shalon hollered across the way.

She looked over to them, grinned and waved. Her girlfriends shouted and high-fived each other. “Have fun! Call us tomorrow!” they shouted over each other. “Deets for dinner!”

She nodded to them.

Crossing her legs, she almost groaned at the ache in her feet. She was lucky she hadn’t fallen crossing the street to meet Quinlan. With her luck, and a great-looking guy, she’d splat in these stupid weird-ass shoes Shalon had gotten for her. They looked hot, she knew, but they were evil, wicked torture devices.

When they’d stood side by side, she realized he stood much taller than her—but then most did. She was a short woman at five-three and a half, and as a short woman she had curves she wished were less pronounced.

Up close he was even more handsome than she’d remembered, if that were possible.

This morning she thought she was stressed about everyday stresses, but hey, if he wanted a good time, she was all for that. Man looked like he knew how to make a girl’s world go round. He looked like he could use some de-stressing as well.

Bad. Very, very bad.
She sighed.

“You came,” he said.

Oh God. She could only stare at him and arch a brow.

He arched a brow as well and a slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Ella shifted in the chair and cleared her throat. “Were you worried?”

His grin turned into a smile. “About many, many things.”

She glanced to the side to see her friends. Shal was giving her a thumbs-up and Marie was nodding as they made their way down the street.

“Sorry about my cousin earlier. And thanks for coming to meet me. I wondered if you actually would, to be honest. You don’t know me or anything. Though I promise I only had beignets and coffee in mind.”

Yeah, like she hadn’t heard that before. “You should get some original lines.”

“Well, I don’t normally pick girls up in the café or market or wherever.”

She ran her gaze over him. Handsome, intense, with a hint of vulnerability, and he was funny in a not-sure kind of way. Laugh lines that seemed unused, and honestly, he wasn’t trying to overly charm her, well . . . it seemed . . . normal. In this not-so-normal place.

She noticed again his fingers were long, elegant, but there were nicks on them, and a few scars. From what? Did he play the piano? Was he an artist? She still wondered.

Who knew?

Who cared?

Up close, she noticed his eyes were the color of lush green grass. Straight-on green, not hazel, not aqua. Just green. She thought she’d imagined that this afternoon. He had a few freckles dusting across his face and along the backs of his hands and wrists. She hadn’t noticed that before.

The café was quieter than usual. She leaned toward him just as he did her.

“Quinlan.”

“Ella.” They both spoke across the other and grinned.

His single dimple only showed up in his laugh lines. Hell, she had dimples, and she knew damn well that hers didn’t look half as good on her as his did on him.

“It is good to see you again,” he told her.

She watched as he slowly shifted in the chair, not managing to hide the slight wince.

“Knee or something else?”

“Knee and femur.”

She waited but he didn’t say anything else.

Silence lengthened and stretched. Finally, she cleared her throat and took a sip of chicory coffee, raising her brow at him. His eyes were intense on her. Maybe he just didn’t talk too much, and as handsome as he was, he seemed . . . almost out of practice at this or something.

“So what do you do, other than help those less fortunate?”

She licked the powdered sugar off her thumb and saw his eyes darken, narrow. She shook her head. “I’m a yoga instructor and I play with any medium of art and I love music.”

He grinned. “Yoga instructor. Do you enjoy it?”

She should probably clarify. “Well, it wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing or went to school for—though I did go to school and am a certified instructor. Yes. I do enjoy it and my other odd jobs I do.”

“What did you go to school for, if I may ask?” He bit into a beignet and the sugar dusted his dark shirt. She watched as he chewed and the muscles rippled in his throat as he swallowed.

“Um. I’ve a marketing degree . . .” She shrugged and sipped her drink. “I’m not really the suit, five days a week type, I discovered.”

He grinned. “A free spirit stuck in the business world. How long did that last?”

“Something like that. And not long.”

“Sounds like there might be a story.”

“We all have one.” She leaned up on her elbows and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, you and your boys here for pleasure? You never actually said, though you mentioned them kidnapping you for a good time.”

He twisted his mouth and glanced in the direction his brothers had gone. “They’d say that, I’m sure.”