Read Online Bourbon Street Blues by Maureen Child - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maureen Child
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again.
The music continued, one song flowing into the next in a medley that spoke to the heart. This was Holly’s favorite part of every evening, mingling with the crowd, smiling and nodding at familiar faces and greeting newcomers.
Wineglasses tinkled and voices murmured just below the swell of the music, and Holly knew she was home. This was where she belonged. The place where she felt most at home. She knew how to work a crowd. She knew how to finesse every chord from a song. She knew how to make every person in the room feel as if they were her guest at a private party.
So many faces turned to her, yet even in the dim light she could distinguish the one she’d least expected to see. Parker James was sitting at what she’d come to think of as “his” table. Alone. At the back of the room.
Watching her.
A jolt of pleasure shot through her, but her voice never faltered. She moved slowly, deliberately, sliding one hand along her waist and over her hip, smoothing the clingy, red-satin dress she wore. Wending herway through the tables, she headed toward him with single-minded determination, the spotlight marking her progress. But all Holly could see was the intensity of Parker’s eyes as he watched her.
A LTHOUGH HE HAD SAT in on her rehearsals twice, this was the first time Parker had come to a performance, and it was a completely different experience.
Holly’s dress looked as though it had been painted over her curves, the deeply cut neckline emphasizing her breasts, and he could feel his body tightening like a bow string. The music washed over him, but all he could hear was her voice, melodic, hypnotic, reaching deep down inside him to tremble at his core.
When she stopped at his table and smiled down at him, he was lost in the soft light of her eyes, in the sway of her hips, in the sultry sigh of her voice. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands itched to grab her, to pull her onto his lap and hold her there.
As if she could read his mind, she gave him another smile, reached out and trailed the tips of her polished fingernails across his cheek. For one brief, tantalizing moment, time seemed to stop. Something incredible hummed between them, electrifying the air until just drawing a breath spread fire throughout his body.
She felt it, too. He could see that in the flash of surprise in her eyes. Then she turned to make her way back to the stage. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that the view as she walked away was just as good as the view of her coming toward him.
She’d gotten inside him, Parker thought. In a couple of days, Holly Carlyle had managed to get under his skin, past the defenses he’d spent the last ten years erecting.
A sobering thought.
One that was troubling enough to douse some of the flames still heating his blood. God knew he wasn’t looking for a woman. And yet…he’d needed to be here. To see her again.
To see Holly in her element.
Now that he had, he knew he’d never get her out of his mind again.
Her smile called to him.
Her voice slipped into his soul.
He wanted her.
And more than just the personal—he wanted her singing at his place.
He was businessman enough to realize just what a singer of her caliber, her personality, could bring to his new place. She would bring people in off the streets. Her voice would be a siren song that couldn’t be denied.
Somehow, he would have to convince her to sing at his jazz café.
Leaning forward, he braced his arms on the tabletop, ordered a beer from the waitress and prepared to wait Holly out. Besides, he couldn’t have left now if his life had depended on it.
“Y OU DON’T HAVE to take me home,” Holly said for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last few minutes.
Parker kept his eyes on the road and his hands fisted on the steering wheel of his black convertible. The sounds and scents of New Orleans assailed them as they drove toward the Garden District.
Disjointed snatches of music drifted from the open
The music continued, one song flowing into the next in a medley that spoke to the heart. This was Holly’s favorite part of every evening, mingling with the crowd, smiling and nodding at familiar faces and greeting newcomers.
Wineglasses tinkled and voices murmured just below the swell of the music, and Holly knew she was home. This was where she belonged. The place where she felt most at home. She knew how to work a crowd. She knew how to finesse every chord from a song. She knew how to make every person in the room feel as if they were her guest at a private party.
So many faces turned to her, yet even in the dim light she could distinguish the one she’d least expected to see. Parker James was sitting at what she’d come to think of as “his” table. Alone. At the back of the room.
Watching her.
A jolt of pleasure shot through her, but her voice never faltered. She moved slowly, deliberately, sliding one hand along her waist and over her hip, smoothing the clingy, red-satin dress she wore. Wending herway through the tables, she headed toward him with single-minded determination, the spotlight marking her progress. But all Holly could see was the intensity of Parker’s eyes as he watched her.
A LTHOUGH HE HAD SAT in on her rehearsals twice, this was the first time Parker had come to a performance, and it was a completely different experience.
Holly’s dress looked as though it had been painted over her curves, the deeply cut neckline emphasizing her breasts, and he could feel his body tightening like a bow string. The music washed over him, but all he could hear was her voice, melodic, hypnotic, reaching deep down inside him to tremble at his core.
When she stopped at his table and smiled down at him, he was lost in the soft light of her eyes, in the sway of her hips, in the sultry sigh of her voice. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands itched to grab her, to pull her onto his lap and hold her there.
As if she could read his mind, she gave him another smile, reached out and trailed the tips of her polished fingernails across his cheek. For one brief, tantalizing moment, time seemed to stop. Something incredible hummed between them, electrifying the air until just drawing a breath spread fire throughout his body.
She felt it, too. He could see that in the flash of surprise in her eyes. Then she turned to make her way back to the stage. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that the view as she walked away was just as good as the view of her coming toward him.
She’d gotten inside him, Parker thought. In a couple of days, Holly Carlyle had managed to get under his skin, past the defenses he’d spent the last ten years erecting.
A sobering thought.
One that was troubling enough to douse some of the flames still heating his blood. God knew he wasn’t looking for a woman. And yet…he’d needed to be here. To see her again.
To see Holly in her element.
Now that he had, he knew he’d never get her out of his mind again.
Her smile called to him.
Her voice slipped into his soul.
He wanted her.
And more than just the personal—he wanted her singing at his place.
He was businessman enough to realize just what a singer of her caliber, her personality, could bring to his new place. She would bring people in off the streets. Her voice would be a siren song that couldn’t be denied.
Somehow, he would have to convince her to sing at his jazz café.
Leaning forward, he braced his arms on the tabletop, ordered a beer from the waitress and prepared to wait Holly out. Besides, he couldn’t have left now if his life had depended on it.
“Y OU DON’T HAVE to take me home,” Holly said for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last few minutes.
Parker kept his eyes on the road and his hands fisted on the steering wheel of his black convertible. The sounds and scents of New Orleans assailed them as they drove toward the Garden District.
Disjointed snatches of music drifted from the open
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