BornontheBayou (5 page)

“I didn’t like what I saw of Jaime.” He recalled her
gloating expression, quickly masked, when she told Beverley the chef had gone.
That made sense, more than the chef waiting barely half an hour did. He wanted
to discover more and recalled his schedule, rapidly calculating how close to
the wire he could come before Chick combusted. “Listen. I want to stay over a
few days, see what you’ve done to the house. Say goodbye.”

“Sure, no problem.”

But Beverley was still done at Great Oaks. He’d work on it.

He hung up and picked up his rapidly cooling coffee. He had
barely taken a sip before his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen and
took the call. “Hey, Chick, how you doin’?”

“As well as I was when you called an hour ago.” Chick
sounded easy. He always did. Slow and easy. Unless, of course, something had
happened to spark his temper. “I got in touch with your three-star chef. He was
at the airport waiting for his flight. I know a few chefs, so I used a mutual
connection to get through to him.”

“Sure you did.” That was why he’d thought of Chick. If Chick
didn’t know a person, then he knew someone who knew him. That old six degrees
of separation thing didn’t work for Chick. He needed only two.

“He said the woman who met him showed him the kitchen and
answered his questions. Didn’t like the conditions.”

“Did he say who the woman was?” Jace asked.

“The assistant manager. She said the manager was too busy to
speak with him. Mismanaged everything.”

Jace snorted. “I’d say she managed perfectly.”

Chick didn’t take long to pick up the insinuation. “Ah.
Sabotage, right?”

“Right.”

“Cutting to the chase, I wouldn’t employ the bastard. He
might be top of the cooking tree, but his people skills leave a lot to be
desired. I looked him up, asked a few questions.”

“In an hour?”

“If you know the right people, it don’t take long.” Chick
didn’t sound complacent, more that everyone could do it if they wanted to. That
attitude fooled a lot of the people Chick wanted to impress or kid into giving
him the right price or the right service. “His employees hate him. Think Gordon
Ramsay times ten. Ramsay does it for the camera. This guy does it because he
can. Even if you did employ him, I’m guessing you’d have your work cut out
keeping kitchen staff.”

Jace didn’t like the sound of the information he was
hearing. He didn’t want Beverley working with a bully. “I’d like to talk to him
myself. So what do you think?”

“Well, he sounded as if he could be talked around. But I
wouldn’t. Leave it with me and let me ask a few people. I’m sure I can get you
someone better.”

“He or she has to be able to do good local cuisine.” Jace
couldn’t imagine a cook in that kitchen who couldn’t make a good gumbo.

A rich chuckle rumbled down the line. “Is that what you call
that mess? Yeah, well, I guess I can ask. The limitation narrows the field. And
hey, while you’re on the line, what day will you get to Atlanta?”

Jace flipped over to his cell’s calendar. The band was due
to perform in Atlanta a week from today. “A couple of days.”

“Don’t leave it too late. There’s plenty of room at the
hotel, man. I have a three-bedroom suite and I’ve got the whole floor booked
for a couple of days before the concert. Helps with security.”

“All the screaming fan girls?” Jace grinned. He’d never had
too many of those. Women tended to want to hook up with him, sure, but Murder
City Ravens hadn’t attracted the younger crowd until recently. That suited him
fine.

“Yeah. Hey, the single’s turning things around. I’m thinking
of asking the record company to release the next one early.”

After a bad first contract and a terrible agent, the
reformed Murder City Ravens had found Chick. Now they had control of their own
careers again. They controlled what they recorded, they said when the albums
came out. So Jace had good reason to trust Chick’s instincts. “You think
that’ll work better?”

“Yeah. Pile good on good, let the public know just how great
you are. But I don’t think the other material on the album is ready for
singles. You need to be thinking about the next set and some new songs.”

“Oh, I am.” In fact, Jace tended to let moods and tunes
swing through him until one took hold or he recognized one as perfect. He
didn’t contribute much to lyrics or tune, but the guitar and some of the
electronic work was down to him. He was the atmospherics guy, he gave the
numbers depth and emotion. Back in his childhood haunts, his muse seemed to
have woken up, but the bitch would have to wait. He had other things on his
mind.

He rang off as soon as he could and managed to get to his
coffee before it went stone-cold. He ordered another one and started on his
beignet, but he’d scarcely taken a bite when his phone rang again. He didn’t
know this number and no name accompanied it on the screen, so he was about to
cut off the caller when he changed his mind and answered. “Hi.”

“It’s Penny.” Ah, he should put this number in his contacts
list. “Please come back. She’s driving me insane.”

So much for the beignet. He dusted his hands on the napkin,
dropped some bills on the table and waved to the girl behind the counter on his
way out, tempted to take his snack with him, but Penny wouldn’t appreciate
powdered sugar in her store.

He had no idea what had driven the usually calm ex-teacher
to call him, but he found out when he stepped into the shop. Beverley sat on
the loveseat dressed in a plain blue T-shirt and jeans, much better than the
ones she’d had on earlier. Penny glanced at her, lines bracketing her mouth.
“She won’t take anything else. I have a great rack of designs for her to try.”

Beverley looked upset, her hands clasped tightly in front of
her. When he met her gaze he could feel her distress as if she were
broadcasting it on the radio. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I didn’t meant to
waste Penny’s time, you see. It was okay at the department store. The personal
shopper was there all day anyway, and they had more than one, so if someone
important turned up someone could see them.” That was a dig at him.

He accepted the reproof with a wry smile of apology. His
reaction surprised him. Normally he’d shrug and walk away if a woman got too
difficult, but he wanted this one happy.

She carried on. “I meant to waste your time like you’d
wasted mine. I only meant to take a few things, enough to get me back to
London. But I can’t waste Penny’s time. She has a business to run and her
assistant has the day off. I can’t do that to her.”

Jace crossed the room, his feet sinking into the soft
carpet. When he held out his hands, she met his clasp and he hauled her to her
feet. “You won’t be wasting Penny’s time if you try the things on. You won’t be
wasting her time if I buy some for you.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

He interrupted her without compunction. “So what were you
going to do? Run away? Only cowards do that, Beverley.” He exchanged a glance
with Penny. She’d taught him that and it gave him some satisfaction to pass on
the message. It was so true. “This is recompense. If you sued the company and
the company paid, it would still partly come out of my pocket. This way I get
some pleasure out of it.”

He sat on the loveseat she’d just vacated. “Go try things on
and replace every bit of what you lost.” He grabbed a newspaper from a stack by
the seat and shook it out, making a shooing gesture with his hand. “Get on with
it.”

Chapter Four

Beverley so didn’t want to leave now. He’d dazzled her,
beguiled her and all but seduced her. She was no longer angry with him. Well,
not much, anyway.

She couldn’t blame him entirely for the chef’s flounce.
Chaballet was notoriously temperamental and there was always a chance the hotel
wouldn’t have kept him for long. But long enough to do something in the press.
Now she could only hope and pray that the media didn’t get hold of that
particular story, because “Chef walks out of luxury hotel before it opens” didn’t
sound good.

Too busy inventing imaginary headlines, she hadn’t noticed
what Penny was helping her into until she said, “There. Much better.”

Beverley hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. Penny
had swept her hair, now dry, behind her shoulders, the better to show off the
lines of the halter-necked sundress. It was stark white. “Not many people can
wear that color,” Penny said.

“I can’t wear this.” She could only think
nipples
.
She was wearing this dress without a bra, so how come she couldn’t see anything
other than the shape of her breasts? “It’s not me.”

“Come out here!” she heard from outside.

She should see this thing in bright sunshine, since that had
been her mistake with the blouse. If the dress showed her nipples, what the
fuck, he’d seen them before.

In a spirit of defiance, she stalked out and confronted him.

He was smiling but the smile froze. He stared at her then
made a twirling motion with his fingers. She obliged him. “That one,” he said,
his voice hoarse. “That is perfect.”

“No, but it’s good,” Penny said. “That flare in the skirt
disguises the full hips.”

“Those full hips are glorious,” he said. “Why would you want
to disguise them?”

Penny exchanged a “Men!” look with Beverley and dragged her
back into the dressing room. Unaccountably she wanted to parade some more
before him, get that expression of stunned awe again. If that was his reaction
to a simple sundress, what could she do with an evening gown?

So when Penny helped her into a slim-fitting red number, she
didn’t even think of looking at the label. She wanted to wow him. This would,
for sure. The dress was tight but gave her enough room to breathe. She almost
pulled it back when Penny pulled a face, said “No,” and unfastened the zipper.

“Why?” she demanded.

“The fabric didn’t drape well on you. It creased between
your breasts and it didn’t do your shoulders any favors. You should avoid the
shallow, round neckline. Stick to V-necks, square necks, off the shoulder and
scoops.”

Now Penny had pointed it out, she could see it. That neckline
didn’t do much for her. “Why haven’t I noticed before?”

“You haven’t studied yourself properly.” Penny waved a
swatch of little fabric samples. “Come outside.” Beverley put on the robe Penny
handed her and obediently followed her into the main store and across to the
large window at the front, where a full-length mirror stood.

This time Penny held the colors against her cheek. “See how
this yellow makes you look slightly ill?” She took away the yellow and replaced
it with another yellow. “And this one makes you look fresh.” She gave Beverley
the right yellow. She went through the spectrum until Beverley had a handful of
colors. “Take them with you when you shop, and choose from that palette.”

Wow, she was learning. So fascinated by what Penny was
telling her, she almost forgot who else sat in the room, so that when Penny
took her back to the changing room she started at the sight of him. He raised a
dark brow and gave her a devilish grin. “Having fun?”

“Kind of.” Suddenly she felt unaccountably shy.

Someone delivered the car from the department store and they
got in. In a daze after what had turned into an exhausting couple of hours,
Jace had driven away before Beverley realized they didn’t have any of the bags,
and all she had to show for her hard work was a pair of jeans and a purple
T-shirt. Very nice ones, to be sure, but she even wore the underwear she’d
started the day with, the white lacy bra and plain cotton panties. “But the
shopping?”

“Penny’s delivering it to the hotel. We couldn’t get it all
in the car anyway.”

She swiveled in her seat as best she could in the
snug-fitting seatbelt. “Hotel? You mean we’re going back to Great Oaks? How can
I do that?”

“If I’d have meant Great Oaks, I’d have said so. We’re
spending the night here, in Baton Rouge. I’ve booked a suite at The Paris.”

“What?” The most luxurious hotel in town. “Why do you want
to stay there?”

“Call it checking out the opposition.” He grinned. “A
business expense.”

Anger bubbled up inside her. She hadn’t felt anger so much
in one day before, but today had driven her to her limit. “Don’t you think
you’re taking a little too much for granted?”

He shot a grin in her direction and heat warmed her from her
toes up. “It’s a two-bedroom suite. But think about it, cher. Do you really
want to get two sets of sheets dirty?” His voice had gentled, warmed, and she
felt it somewhere deep inside. She could no longer hide it from herself. She
wanted him, so badly she was dampening already for him. Anger and passion could
be closely linked, she discovered.

“Why?” She meant why her, but she couldn’t finish the
sentence. He seemed to understand.

“Because I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve met for a
long time. Because I want you.”

“No, I mean—the clothes, I can’t take those.”

“They’re my debt. I owe you those, at least. I owe you a job
too, and I’m trying to do something about that.”

Sensations swamped her, overwhelming her with their
intensity. Anger, desire and an emotion that brought her to near tears. She
stared at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap.

“Hey.” Trust him to notice. “We’ll get to the hotel, check
in and order room service. Let’s go from there. If you want, I’ll drive you
back to Great Oaks later. Or even the airport, if you want.”

She didn’t feel she could do anything else. Confusion reigned
in her mind as he pulled in to the forecourt of the hotel and a uniformed
doorman rushed to help her out. She fought her visceral desire for him with
what she wanted to do next, what she should do. Like call James Bell and
apologize.

The Paris stood on one of the main streets of Baton Rouge
but the atmosphere inside was hushed and expensive. Although used to these
places, she’d never visited one as a guest before. She’d visited, sometimes
worked in, even lived in, some of the finest hotels in Europe, but that
involved the staff entrance, not the porticoed front door with a uniformed
bellboy opening the door for her.

She wasn’t overawed though. The Paris belonged to a hotel
chain that prided itself on luxury and service but not individualism. Reminders
of the hotel lingered in the flourishing P logos on the luggage trolleys, the
badges of the receptionists, even woven into the pattern of the carpet. She
supposed ordering it in bulk helped with the cost. So did having a stranglehold
on the suppliers. Order enough and the company might as well be part of the
group, so that withdrawing the custom ruined them.

Her mind followed those tracks these days, but she had to
admit, she didn’t care about them half as much as she did about fresh food,
where to buy it, how to prepare and present it. She’d belonged in the catering
world, left her heart there, but she hadn’t felt part of the hotel management
business. It would come, she’d told herself, but it never had. Welcome to the
real world, of people who liked but didn’t love what they did. Even people who
detested their jobs.

Jace touched her elbow. “This way.”

“You’ve checked in?”

He grinned. “They did it for me. I explained we didn’t want
the media turning up and disrupting their hotel. They’re used to guests like me.
The concierge has me down as Mr. Trevor and you, my dear, are my wife.” He
laughed when she turned to him indignantly and held up his hands in
supplication. “It’s easiest. Now come on before somebody spots us.”

“I think they have,” she murmured, nodding to a woman who
stared at them, then hurried across to join them.

“Don’t I know you?”

“I doubt it,” Jace said. “Not unless you work for Trevor’s
Plastics.” He walked away, leading a numb Beverley.

“How could you do that?” she demanded once they were alone in
the elevator. “You don’t look anything like a manager in the plastics industry!
You look like what you are.”

“Which is…?” He stared down at her haughtily, reminding her
forcibly of his origin as local aristocracy.

“A rock star,” she suggested, indicating his nipple rings
and his open jacket. She’d been trying
not
to keep her attention on his
chest all afternoon, ever since he’d given her his shirt.

He laughed. “It kept her busy working it out, long enough
for us to get away. She thought she knew me but she wasn’t sure where she’d
seen me. She was chancing a guess.”

Even that sounded seductive the way he said it. Realization
struck. “Your shirt. I left it at the department store.”

He shrugged. “What’s the betting it gets lost in transit?
You watch the online auction sites in the next few days.”

The revelation shocked her, although on reflection she
supposed it shouldn’t. “Do people steal things from you?”

“All the time.” He reached out, spread his hands on either
side of her waist and drew her close. His voice lowered. “What do you want to
steal from me?”

“N-nothing.”

“Pity. I could hold you to ransom over it. That would be
fun.” He bent his head and kissed her.

This time, with nobody to see them, he didn’t have any
reason to kiss her but one. A reason she shared. She wanted him badly, and the
little devil inside her, the one she’d suppressed for years, said,
Why not?
Just this once, live a little.

By the time he broke away as the elevator doors opened,
she’d made up her mind. Why not? She’d be in England soon, back with her
family, resuming a life she shouldn’t have left.

He didn’t take his smoldering gaze away from her as he
slipped his hand into hers and stepped out of the elevator, leading her to the
suite with two bedrooms, one of which she knew would never get used tonight.

He didn’t stop in the living area, but led her straight to
the bedroom that looked out over the street and drew her close again. “So,
beautiful lady, here we are. This is the end of my asking. If you say no, the
other bedroom is yours and I won’t interfere. Will you? Or do you want to take
a chance?”

It was as though he’d read her mind. “Chance,” she managed
through suddenly dry lips. “I want to know.”

“Know what?”

“What it’s like?”

He frowned and stared at her, eyes gone sharp and cold.
“You’re a virgin?”

She laughed. “Nope. How many twenty-eight-year-old virgins
do you know? But it’s been a while.” She thought back. “A year, I think. No, I
meant I want to know what it’s like with you. To be with you.”

And she did what she’d been thinking about doing all
afternoon. She touched his silver nipple rings. They felt cold against the tips
of her fingers. She followed the little circles from one end to the other and
watched his nipples contract. When she looked up, he was smiling down at her, his
eyes gleaming.

“You like?”

“Oh yes. Now that’s a first for me. Doing it with a man who
wears body jewelry.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but that’s all there is.” Heat
rushed under her cheeks and he chuckled, tipping up her chin so he could see
her. “Did you want more? For you, I might even get a Prince Albert.”

“What’s that?”

He laughed delightedly. “Shit, you are innocent, aren’t you?
Sweet and lovely.” He didn’t sound mocking at all as he dropped a gentle kiss
on her lips. “Come on, let’s get comfortable.” He paused in the act of
shrugging off his jacket. “I’m ahead of you.”

She held her breath as she lifted her new T-shirt over her
head, shyness swamping her. She was out of practice. She’d never done this with
someone who’d affected her so much or someone half so gorgeous. It wasn’t just
his ripped body and sexy drawl, he affected her at a deeper level, a place she
hardly knew herself. She sensed a point of vulnerability inside him, she had
ever since she’d seen him staring at the wall in the old upper drawing room at
Great Oaks. But she didn’t know him, had only met him that morning, she
reminded herself.

When she saw his expression after she tossed her T-shirt
over the nearest chair, she responded immediately, her nipples peaking and her
pussy dampening. He’d catch fire if she struck a match. She fought not to
squirm but he must have seen something. Fuck, of course he did.

He sounded hoarse. “Come here.”

She stepped into his arms and gave herself to him.

He folded her close and she felt oddly safe, more than she’d
felt for months, since she’d arrived in Louisiana to rebuild her life. Being
brave every day, facing the world as a failure had taken a lot from her, more
than she’d realized.

He kissed her again then gentled it, as if she were
precious, something he needed to handle delicately. His hair fell over her face
as if it too was in protective mode, caressing her cheeks. She loved it. Too
much. She couldn’t allow herself to imagine more than he was offering. This man
was rich, famous, and he didn’t belong to her for more than a few hours. Better
remember that. Difficult with his tongue in her mouth, caressing her so
carefully, learning her texture and taste.

For the next few hours, in this anonymous bedroom, she could
give herself to him totally. Nobody would know what they did or how they did
it. “I thought you’d take me for a walk on the wild side,” she murmured against
his lips.

“Maybe this won’t be,” he said, almost whispering the words,
his breath hot against her skin. “We have all night to get to wild. Right now
you’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day, ever since I saw those sweet
little berries under your blouse. I do hope they deliver that shirt here,
because I want to see you in it again. But not now.” He undid her bra with a
skillful twist, almost as well as she did it herself every night. “Now I want
to see you in nothing at all.”