never hurts to ask. Sometimes you don’t get an answer, but sometimes…” The look he gave her left no doubt what
he was thinking as he softly finished, “Sometimes you get lucky.”
Like last night.
She
had sure as hell gotten lucky last night. She was flattered that he felt the same way.
Before she could find words to respond, he went on. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Sight-seeing.”
“Anything in particular you want to see?”
She answered with a shrug and a grin. “Everything I can cram into the next twelve hours or so.”
“Want an expert tour guide?”
Just as she’d done yesterday when he’d offered to accompany her to the Quarter, she hesitated, momentarily considering the
wisdom of going off with a stranger, and then, just as she’d done yesterday, she dismissed any reason for concern. After all,
after last night, he wasn’t exactly a stranger. Not anymore. “I’d like that, if you’re sure you can spare the time.”
“I have all day.” Moving away from the pillar, he came to stand in front of her, very close, and raised one hand to smooth
a tucked and pleated strap on her sundress that was already perfectly smooth. She knew the action was deliberate, allowing
him to touch her in a manner that was both circumspect and intimate, his intention to remind her of whathad passed between them last night. But she carried all the reminders she needed: the memories, the utter satisfaction, and
the stiffness of a well-used—and appreciative—body.
Resisting the urge to lay her hand over his, to guide it lower, to do something bold and brash and potentially embarrassing,
she cleared her throat and took one step back, placing a little breathing room between them. “I’d like the company,” she murmured.
“Just give me time to change, pack, and check out so I won’t have to come back later this morning.”
“Good idea. We’ll leave your bags in my truck; then I can take you straight to the airport when it’s time.”
She nodded her agreement; then, on impulse, she asked, “Do you want to come up to the room?”
For a time, he remained silent, his gaze directed at the murals high above the lobby. Finally, with an awkward glance, he
shook his head. “I’ll wait here.”
Nodding again, she gave him a regretful smile, then started toward the elevator. Before she turned away, though, she thought
she saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Real? she wondered. Or merely her own disappointment reflected back at her?
John watched until she stepped inside the elevator and the doors closed, blocking her from sight, and then he squeezed his
eyes shut and swore silently, viciously. Why hadn’t she turned down his offer to spend the day with her? Why was she making
this so easy for him? Last night should have taught her a lesson, should have taught her that he wasn’t to be trusted. He
had offered to show her the Quarter, but she’d seen little enough of it and all too much of him. If she were a sensible woman,
if she would let go for one moment of the image of New Orleans as an exotic, romantic adventure to be experienced to the fullest,
she would have told him thanks but no thanks and run the other way. Back home in Richmond, no doubt she was eminently sensible.
Here in New Orleans, no doubt she was living for the moment.
Before the morning was over, she was going to regret it.
When she had awakened alone this morning, she had thought she would never see him again. That was what she’d started to say
a moment ago:
I didn’t think
… It had been in her eyes, too expressive by far. She had thought that he’d gotten what he wanted—easy sex—and walked out
of her life. It would have been better for her if he had.
He’d left her last night for a number of reasons—so he could move from his hotel into hers, so he could have the peace and
privacy necessary to plan his next move, so he wouldn’t be distracted by the sweet temptation of her
he was thinking as he softly finished, “Sometimes you get lucky.”
Like last night.
She
had sure as hell gotten lucky last night. She was flattered that he felt the same way.
Before she could find words to respond, he went on. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Sight-seeing.”
“Anything in particular you want to see?”
She answered with a shrug and a grin. “Everything I can cram into the next twelve hours or so.”
“Want an expert tour guide?”
Just as she’d done yesterday when he’d offered to accompany her to the Quarter, she hesitated, momentarily considering the
wisdom of going off with a stranger, and then, just as she’d done yesterday, she dismissed any reason for concern. After all,
after last night, he wasn’t exactly a stranger. Not anymore. “I’d like that, if you’re sure you can spare the time.”
“I have all day.” Moving away from the pillar, he came to stand in front of her, very close, and raised one hand to smooth
a tucked and pleated strap on her sundress that was already perfectly smooth. She knew the action was deliberate, allowing
him to touch her in a manner that was both circumspect and intimate, his intention to remind her of whathad passed between them last night. But she carried all the reminders she needed: the memories, the utter satisfaction, and
the stiffness of a well-used—and appreciative—body.
Resisting the urge to lay her hand over his, to guide it lower, to do something bold and brash and potentially embarrassing,
she cleared her throat and took one step back, placing a little breathing room between them. “I’d like the company,” she murmured.
“Just give me time to change, pack, and check out so I won’t have to come back later this morning.”
“Good idea. We’ll leave your bags in my truck; then I can take you straight to the airport when it’s time.”
She nodded her agreement; then, on impulse, she asked, “Do you want to come up to the room?”
For a time, he remained silent, his gaze directed at the murals high above the lobby. Finally, with an awkward glance, he
shook his head. “I’ll wait here.”
Nodding again, she gave him a regretful smile, then started toward the elevator. Before she turned away, though, she thought
she saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Real? she wondered. Or merely her own disappointment reflected back at her?
John watched until she stepped inside the elevator and the doors closed, blocking her from sight, and then he squeezed his
eyes shut and swore silently, viciously. Why hadn’t she turned down his offer to spend the day with her? Why was she making
this so easy for him? Last night should have taught her a lesson, should have taught her that he wasn’t to be trusted. He
had offered to show her the Quarter, but she’d seen little enough of it and all too much of him. If she were a sensible woman,
if she would let go for one moment of the image of New Orleans as an exotic, romantic adventure to be experienced to the fullest,
she would have told him thanks but no thanks and run the other way. Back home in Richmond, no doubt she was eminently sensible.
Here in New Orleans, no doubt she was living for the moment.
Before the morning was over, she was going to regret it.
When she had awakened alone this morning, she had thought she would never see him again. That was what she’d started to say
a moment ago:
I didn’t think
… It had been in her eyes, too expressive by far. She had thought that he’d gotten what he wanted—easy sex—and walked out
of her life. It would have been better for her if he had.
He’d left her last night for a number of reasons—so he could move from his hotel into hers, so he could have the peace and
privacy necessary to plan his next move, so he wouldn’t be distracted by the sweet temptation of her
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