Leave Yesterday Behind (17 page)

Chapter 23

Callie watched the passing scenery as they headed into New Orleans. They were going into town to talk with Bill O’Grady, the alarm system specialist that Eric recommended.

“I don’t see why I had to come into town with you,” she complained. “I was perfectly safe at Noble Oaks.”

“No,” Nick said. “You will be safe once this system is installed. And don’t forget, we’re peas in a pod, remember?”

“Nick,” she said firmly, “I think you are taking this Sir Galahad thing a touch too seriously. Eric has a man on the house. He said NYPD would be sending Detective Waggoner down to follow up. The alarm system will be put in today, more than likely. You don’t owe me anything.”

Nick whipped off onto the shoulder of the road and slammed the gearshift into park. He took her chin firmly in hand.

“Look at me, Callie Chennault. I’m dead serious. I’m going to be your shadow till this thing is through. Closer than your shadow if you’ll let me.”

She understood his underlying meaning. “Nick, I know you’re attracted to me.”

His dark gaze gave her pause.

“Okay. We’re attracted to each other,” she amended. “But we live very different lives. I’ll eventually leave Aurora and head back to New York. I’m not interested in some fling while I’m here.”

His hand slid to the back of her neck, bringing her closer to him. “Neither am I, Callie.”

She could feel her pulse leap in her throat. “What are you saying?”

He kissed her gently, slowly, yet the sizzle was still there. His mouth moved on hers with delicious ease. Her heart told her this man was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Yet she pulled away.

“If the kiss doesn’t tell you what you need to know, Callie, then the words will.” He paused and she found herself mesmerized by his midnight blue eyes.

When he spoke, his sincerity shone like a beacon from a lighthouse. “As a writer, I should be better at this. Just remember that I usually do several re-writes before my dialogue sees print.” He took her hand in his, slowly running his thumb across her knuckles. Frissons of excitement rippled down her spine. Never had a man’s simple touch driven her this crazy.

“I love you.” Nick sighed. “It hit me fast as lightning strikes. It’s not just our chemistry, although there’s plenty of that. It’s you. And us. We have a lot in common, Callie. We come from small towns, and we still have small town values. We’re both successful artists, but the money doesn’t mean jack shit. It’s what we do and the challenge we seek. You’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met, and you don’t give me an inch. Even though we’ve only known each other for a week, it’s as if I’ve known you my whole life.

“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His declaration stunned her.
Love?
Yet she agreed with what he’d said. They were cut from the same cloth. She enjoyed spending time with him. She felt at ease around him and was also exhilarated by him. Was that enough to build a lifetime together?

“But . . . we haven’t even had sex,” she blurted out. “Oh, God, where did that come from?”

Nick smiled at her, that Redford smile again, making her insides go liquid. “I could be happy kissing you for hours every single day as it is. Making love to you will just be the bonus.”

He took both her hands in his. “Don’t I get extra credit points for admitting I love you and want to be with you from now till we’re old and gray even before we’ve had sex? I’m thinking that’s pretty darn chivalrous.”

“Oh, Nick.” She threw her arms around his neck. Her voice quivered with emotion. She kissed him this time, long and thorough.

She pulled away suddenly, crossing her arms in front of her. “But . . . you haven’t really . . . seen me, Nick. Not . . . not what he did to me. It’s not pretty. I’ll never look the way I used to.”

He placed his palm against her cheek. “Honey, a few scars won’t change how I feel about you.” He put his hand over his heart. “My heart is telling me to go for the brass ring. I want you and our careers and babies and the whole nine yards.”

“Babies?” she croaked. “We’re already talking babies?”

“Shit! I told Miz C not to bring it up, and here I am spilling those beans.”

Callie cocked her head. “You’ve already talked to Aunt C about this?”

“A Southern gentleman always makes his good intentions known to the bride’s family.” He gave her a swift kiss. “Seriously, if you want to go back and live in New York, we will. I can write anywhere. My editor and publisher would be thrilled to have me close by. My agent would do a happy dance. But I’d like to keep a place here for us always to have a home to come to in the South.”

“I just threw out I was going back to New York because I was scared at what you’d said,” she admitted. “You know what we’ve talked about. I really don’t know what I want to do yet, acting-wise.”

“Then just tell me you know you want one thing for sure. Me.”

Tears cascaded down her cheeks. “Oh, I do, Nick. I really do.” He embraced her and she whispered, “I’m afraid this has all been some dream, and I’ll wake up. That we’ll still be two people who like to antagonize the hell out of each other.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll change at all, hon. But we’ll be stuck with each other, for better or worse. I like the sound of that. A lot.”

“Me, too.”

So that pretty much covers things,” Bill O’Grady said. “We can have everything taken care of by supper time. Eric giving me a heads up sure helped. And don’t worry about your aunt learning how to work things. I’ll take extra care explaining it to her.”

Callie picked up one of the business cards that sat in a holder at the table’s center. She scribbled a few lines on the back of it and handed it to the large Irishman.

“That’s my business manager’s address. Send the final bill to him and whatever monthly fees there are. I don’t want Aunt C to pay a dime on this.”

O’Grady tore apart the copies, stapling the card she’d given him to the one he kept. He pushed the other over to her. “Will do, Miss Chennault. I do have one more thing to ask.”

He grinned sheepishly. “My wife and I, well, we’re huge fans and DVR you every day. If she finds out that you were in here and I didn’t ask for your autograph, I’d best be looking for another place to sleep. Permanently.”

She smiled graciously. “Not a problem. If you’d like, I can have an 8x10 glossy sent to you.”

“Whoa, baby,” O’Grady shouted. “I would be the hero of the month at my house. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’ll see that you get one. What’s your wife’s name?”

“Betty Lou.” He smiled. “She looks a little like Betty Rubble from the Flintstones. At least I always tell her so. All guys know Betty was the better-looking one.”

Nick stood and offered his hand. “Thanks for your time, Bill.” He told her, “I’ll call Miz C and tell her to expect the alarm company truck within the hour.”

“I’ve got a couple of calls to make, too,” she replied, as they both pulled out their cells.

She left a message on Beth’s voice mail. “Sorry I didn’t reach you in person.” She found the address on her receipt and gave it to Beth. “And by the way, you aren’t going to believe what’s happened down here. Let’s just say there’s nothing like homegrown boys.”

She smiled as she ended the call, knowing Beth would return her call the minute she listened to the message. She dialed her business manager and told him about the upcoming bills for the alarm system.

“Ready?” Nick asked.

“Sure. I’m getting a little hungry, though. Maybe we can snag a po’boy before we go back?”

“Let’s head over to the square.”

They were parked about half a dozen blocks from Jackson Square, the heart of the French Quarter. Nick took her hand in his, his fingers warm and strong. The rightness of it surprised her. She’d gone from a man-avoider to a woman in love in less than a week. All because of Nick.

They turned off Canal onto Decatur, walking leisurely in the hot morning sun till they reached the square. St. Louis Cathedral loomed large.

“I remember the first time Aunt C brought me down here.” She pointed toward the church. “We went in. Candles glowed everywhere. It smelled a little musty, but I was sure God lived there. I thought it was the most beautiful church in the entire world. I still do.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “I like the place on the corner there. Want to try it?”

“Sure.” They crossed the street and entered the oyster bar. Its black and white tiles gleamed as much as the long oak bar. The small place was busy, with white-aproned servers cutting between chairs with their laden trays as whirring ceiling fans kept the flow of air conditioning constant.

“There’s a table.” He led her to it as a waitress appeared.

“Two shrimp po’boys, and a side order of hush puppies. And two mint iced teas.”

“You got it.”

“How did you know exactly what I wanted?”

He laid a hand over hers. “You just look like a shrimp and hush puppy kinda gal. I guess great minds think—and eat—alike.”

They talked over their sandwiches, which came with slender, salted fries and creamy coleslaw. She found out a little about his playing days and even shared a few stories of the backstage soap opera behind
Sumner Falls.
Before she realized it, the restaurant had almost emptied, the lunch rush over. She’d lost all track of time as they spoke.

Nick paid the bill, and they stepped from the cool air conditioning back into the steamy heat of New Orleans. Callie took in all the street vendors lining Jackson Square, hawking their wares or performing for loose change.

Nick pointed to one of them. “Hey, see that lady with the pink fedora? She’s really good. She did a drawing of Elvis, Eric, and me once years ago.”

He dragged her over to one of the sidewalk artists lining the square. Example caricatures of her work were displayed under the shade of a tree.

“Afternoon, ma’am. We’d like to get our portrait done. In color,” he added.

The woman, whom Callie thought looked like a gypsy with her dark coloring and multicolored blouse, nodded.

“Sit there,” she indicated. “And no talk. Fifteen minutes.”

Callie sat, and Nick moved next to her. His arm went around her waist, pulling her close. She stared off across the square at the statue of Jackson perched upon his war steed.

Could life get any better than this?
Despite her present troubles, contentment poured through her. Serenity blanketed her, as real as Nick’s arm about her.

“Is finished. Is good,” the artist proclaimed.

Callie came out of her reverie. How long had she been daydreaming? She peered at the sketch and smiled. The artist portrayed her as dreamy and delicate. Nick was strong and grinning from ear to ear. Tiny hearts had been drawn about them in the air. The cartooned couple looked totally in love.

“Thank you,” Nick told the woman, pressing a bill into her hand. She tucked it down her blouse and rolled up the paper, handing it to him.

“We’ll come back,” he promised.

They strolled down toward the market when Nick spotted a carriage.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ve never done anything touristy like this before.” He spoke to the driver briefly and handed her up before he climbed in after her.

He threw an arm around her shoulders. “We’re off to see the Garden District.”

“Oh, I love it there. Every house has its own distinct beauty.”

“And its own story,” he added. “Maybe I’ll be inspired to start something new.”

She rested her hand on his thigh. “Well, it worked for Anne Rice. And she didn’t do too shabbily.”

He shuddered. “Her stuff creeps me out. Vampires always scared the hell out of me. I used to sleep with the covers tucked behind my neck when I was a kid because Elvis swore they’d come visit me in the night. Every morning I’d run over to the mirror and check my throat to make sure no bloodsucker had stopped by for a midnight snack of Nick.”

She snorted. “I think Lestat is romantic and charming. Even if he is a little egotistical sometimes. Besides, Rice’s descriptions are wonderful. I’d love to have the chance to play a character that complex.”

She put her head on his shoulder as the driver guided the horses over to St. Charles. They spent a good two hours in the Garden District, pointing out the houses they liked and making up stories about the various owners. It pleased her to see they had similar tastes, from their love of wraparound porches to grand old cypress trees.

“Would you like to live along here?” Nick asked.

Callie considered it. “It would be nice, but I prefer a smaller place. After living in New York all these years, I think I’d enjoy a less hectic pace. NOLA has too many people, including too many tourists. I really cherish my privacy.”

“Me, too.” Nick brushed his lips against hers, and Callie surrendered to the moment.

They disembarked where they’d started from, and he insisted they stop at Café du Monde.

“How can you be a block from the best beignets in the world and not succumb?” he asked her.

She agreed, despite the fact that she was still full from lunch, and they joined the line waiting to grab a table. Nick maneuvered her around several people, and they snagged a table just as a couple was leaving. They ordered café au laits and two plates of beignets, which appeared nearly as soon as they spoke.

“I used to love coming here every summer,” he revealed. “It was one of the places Aunt Olivia would bring Mom and me. I thought these were the best donuts in the world. And the best hot chocolate. No matter what the temperature, I had to have my hot chocolate.”

“So how long did you stay?”

He shrugged. “Usually a month. Mom would come the entire time, too. We always had a blast.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Yep.” He bit into his last bite of beignet and moaned. Callie leaned over with a napkin and wiped his powdered sugar mustache away.

“She missed living here. She and Aunt Olivia were thick as thieves. Still are.”

“So where does your mom live?”