The Unknown Woman (6 page)

Her smile almost caused his lungs to squeeze shut. “Dessert sounds wonderful. We didn’t eat a lot at dinner,” she reminded him.

“I hope they don’t put peppers in the pies,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

They laughed as they entered the restaurant. After they’d ordered decaffeinated coffee and asked for the dessert menu, Matt was pleased to see the smile linger on Kerry’s expressive face as she looked around.

“The hotel is quieter tonight,” she said. “I wonder if word got around about…everything.”

“I suspect it has. This afternoon when I returned from the wine tasting I saw more people checking out. Some of them were probably scheduled to leave, but one couple said they’d cut their trip short because of all the weird things the night before. Their room was vandalized, too.”

She nodded. “Having the generator fail in a major blackout reflects badly on the hotel. And then…then Patti.”

“It was a strange first night in New Orleans,” he concluded, echoing her solemn tone. “But there were a couple of good things, too.”

She glanced at him in question.

“I met a lovely and helpful woman,” he said, his voice going husky. “That was a plus. We saw an interesting ceremony tonight and I’m sure glad I had company for that.”

Her expression brightened. “Me, too. I think I would have been frightened if I’d been alone.”

The look in her eyes made him feel like a hero. He picked up the menu. “Let’s check the desserts out. Maybe we should order one of everything.”

“No way. We’d be on a sugar high until dawn.” She quickly scanned the dessert list. “Oh my. Check out Chef Remy’s specials.”

Matt read over the listings on the menu. Remy Marchand, who had died in a car accident several years ago, had invented a dessert for each of his four daughters.

“Crème brûlée à la Charlotte, made with bourbon and a praline topping,” he read aloud. “That’s the hotel manager’s name—Charlotte Marchand, the woman we met last night.”

“Neapolitan pour Sylvie,” Kerry took up the recitation, “three kinds of ice cream with a drizzle of white and dark chocolate on top and an almond tuile cookie on the side.”

“Pavlova Renee is a frozen meringue filled with warm raspberry-peach sauce, served with Chantilly cream and fresh raspberries. Man, that sounds great. I ate pavlova every place we had dinner in Australia when my family took a vacation there. That was years ago,” he added at the thoughtful glance Kerry gave him.

“Wait till you hear this one,” she said with a teasing grin. “Piquante Melanie. A molten chocolate brownie on a bed of sweet cream and laced with the slightest touch of chili peppers.”

They burst into spontaneous laughter. Kerry fanned her mouth with her hand as she had at the Cajun restaurant when her tongue was burning from the spicy food.

Matt caught the envious glance of a couple of men at a nearby table. Instinctively he lifted his hand to lay it over Kerry’s, a gesture that would tell the men this woman was
his,
then stopped himself in time.

Back off, he warned his libido, suppressing the possessive urges he kept experiencing around her.

“Okay, that’s the one for me,” he told her, “Piquante Melanie. Definitely.”

She sighed. “I want some of each.”

When the waiter came back, Matt asked, “Would it be possible to get a sample of each of Chef Remy’s specials? They all sound so delicious, we can’t decide.”

“Of course.”

“And a glass of milk, please,” Kerry requested.

The waiter nodded. “You, too, sir?”

“Why not?” Matt said, as if drinking milk at midnight was a daring feat, which caused Kerry to laugh.

When they were alone, Kerry explained that her grandparents had run a dairy farm and she’d grown up drinking milk at every meal. “It just seems to go with dessert.”

He thought of the five-course dinners, a different wine served with each course, that were typical for formal occasions with his family. Otherwise meals had
often been trays for him and his sister in their shared sitting room. Their parents would either be out for the evening, or ensconced in their suites, preferring to be alone rather than with their children, or even each other.

Forcing the memory from his mind, he studied Kerry. It sounded old-fashioned to say she was wholesome, but that was the term that came to mind and lingered—Kerry was “whole” in mind and spirit, loving and caring toward others, yet with an appealing independence and spunkiness he liked.

The squeezing sensation attacked his chest again. He tried to figure out why, and knew it had something to do with Kerry.

“Look at that!” she said suddenly. “It’s a work of art. I’m not sure we should eat it.”

The waiter grinned as he placed a huge platter in the center of the table. Each dessert sample had its own plate or crystal bowl. Flowers, fruit and fresh water-cress decorated the platter.

“You must taste each one,” he told them, arranging dessert plates and silverware before them, “and give me your opinion on the best.”

“We will,” she promised, picking up the fork.

After the server placed glasses of milk on the table and refilled their coffee cups, he left them with an admonition to “enjoy!”

“How can we help but enjoy?” she said. “Which do you want to start with?”

“Maybe the spicy one? Or should we save it for last, the pièce de résistance?”

“Let’s see how hot it is,” she suggested wryly.

“You first.” Matt broke off a piece of the brownie with his fork, raked it through the thick layer of cream and held it out to Kerry. With a grin, he dared her to taste it.

She bravely took the bite, chewed thoughtfully, then pronounced it one of the best things she’d ever eaten.

Matt found himself staring at her lips as she licked the cream off. He had to swallow hard before he could take a bite of the treat. He could only imagine how creamy and chocolaty her lips would taste right at that moment.

They dispensed with the formality of dessert plates and ate directly from the platter. They tasted each item, argued over which was the very best, couldn’t decide, then had to taste everything all over again.

Shortly after midnight, they headed for their suites, leaving half of each dessert uneaten, but not because they hadn’t tried. “I am
so
full,” she told him as they crossed the courtyard. “Maybe we should swim laps to work off the calories.”

He looked her over. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

She gave him a startled, then pleased glance.

After opening the gate to her patio, he followed her inside, meaning only to make sure she was safe in her room before leaving her.

“Thank you for going to the ceremony,” she said as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The night-light disclosed the turned-down bed, a frilly paper cup of mints and chocolates on the pillow.

The pleasure-pain of hot and immediate desire plunged through Matt. He wanted to lift her into his arms, kick the door shut and stay in that room—in that bed—with her for about a week, maybe two.

“I know this is too soon…” he murmured, his voice dropping to a deep, sensual level as he took her into his arms.

Her perfectly shaped mouth rounded in surprise, but she didn’t pull away.

Unless she said or indicated a definite no, he knew he wouldn’t stop. He had to have one taste. Her lips had tempted him almost beyond control with each bite of the luscious desserts they’d shared.

And then he couldn’t think further.

Her mouth was warm. It tasted of chocolate and cream and the rich roasted flavor of expensive coffee. She was exquisite, a perfect fit in his arms. He gathered her closer, then simply lifted her off her feet so he could experience every lovely curve of her petite frame.

Hearing laughter out in the courtyard, he stepped deeper into the shadows of a potted tree, its branches arching over them like an umbrella of privacy.

She made a little keening sound, so he took the kiss deeper, invading her mouth with his tongue, searching out the sweet nectar of her. When she responded, a tad hesitant at first, then giving more…and more…he had
to fight the urge to move inside to find comfort and delight in that big bed.

His leg touched something solid. A bench. He sat down on it, Kerry in his lap, a hand on his chest.

Matt wanted to rip his shirt off so she could touch his bare skin. He caressed her back, her side, then filled his palm with her perfectly shaped breast. Bliss, he thought through the red, smoky haze of increasing hunger. “Kerry,” he murmured.

She stiffened and went absolutely still. “I think…perhaps…it’s late,” she said in a shaken tone.

He immediately released her and set her on her feet. “You’re right. I should go.” He paused, hoping she would contradict him, but knew she wasn’t going to. “Good night, Kerry. It was a very interesting evening.”

“Yes, I had a lovely time,” she said, managing to sound both sincere yet stiffly polite.

As soon as she was inside her room, he closed the door, heard the lock fall into place and hurried next door.

Glancing around his own room, he noticed all was blessedly normal—no strange woman in his bed, no clothing or furniture disturbed, the light of the table lamp softly welcoming.

“And no Kerry,” he muttered, surprising himself. He’d known her one day and he missed her already?

Get real.

K
ERRY YAWNED
, then took another sip of hot coffee. It was seven o’clock. She’d been awake since six. Her mind seemed fuzzy, yet filled with details of the previous evening—specifically the kiss.

When Matt kissed her, she’d nearly lost control. Odd behavior for her. But even stranger was that, after going into her room, she wished she hadn’t stiffened up.

She had to laugh at herself. Most people regretted acting impulsively.
She
regretted that instant of hesitation.

Mentally shaking her head at the thought, she could almost hear the cackle of knowing laughter from the old voodoo queen. It was remembering that feeling about her and Matt becoming lovers that had made her go rigid last night. It was an enticing prospect, but the possibility it was predestined made her feel out of control.

Matt probably thought she was beyond weird.

She sighed. He was the most attractive man she’d met in ages and in more ways than just the physical.
He was kind and caring. However, she had to admit she’d had erotic dreams about him all night, so the physical was pretty compelling—

“Hello, neighbor,” came a friendly voice over the fence that divided the two patios.

“Matt, hello,” she said, her hand involuntarily clenching her cup. She sloshed a couple of drops of coffee on the table mat. Nothing like appearing sanguine and composed.

“Mind if I come over?” he asked.

She mopped up the drops with a napkin. “Not at all.”

He left his patio and entered hers. “You’re up early this morning.”

“Yes. I couldn’t, uh…the day seemed too beautiful to waste in sleep.” She gave him a bright smile.

“I agree.”

She saw him inhale deeply, then breathe out slowly. He looked solemn. She steeled herself for whatever he said. No matter what it was, she would remain calm and pleasant.

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” he said, his eyes, as blue as the sky that formed a backdrop behind his head, never wavering from hers.

She nodded as she tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous, such as:
But I loved it!

“Coming on to an unwilling woman isn’t usually my style,” he continued after the tense silence.

“No, no,” she quickly assured him, “I wasn’t un
willing, Matt.” He had to believe her. “It was the intensity that took me by surprise.”

He stared into her eyes as if determined to find the truth. “Then you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said firmly. “Would you care to join me? I can recommend the day’s special, if you haven’t had breakfast.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

He took a seat opposite her at the table. The morning air was still cool, but the sun’s rays warmed her back.

The early hour and daylight didn’t diminish his good looks, she noted, glancing across the table at him. He had a lean, clean-shaven face with interesting planes and a strong jaw. She liked the fact that he looked directly into her eyes when he spoke to her.

Before she could suggest he call room service, the waiter who’d served her earlier appeared with a fresh pot of coffee and a place setting on a tray.

“Will you be having breakfast, sir?” he asked, filling the cup for Matt after asking his preference for regular or decaffeinated coffee.

“Regular, please, and I’ll take the special,” Matt said, gesturing toward Kerry’s used dishes, which the waiter loaded on the tray.

“Very good. Do you also want milk?”

Matt’s blue eyes twinkled, and a smile played around the corners of his very attractive mouth. “Just orange juice.”

After the waiter left, Kerry said, “The ceremony was eerie, wasn’t it? The drums and the fire, the dancing and the voodoo. Perhaps it had a greater influence on us than we realized when we, I mean, last night…”

He nodded. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. “But I found you hard to resist long before the ceremony.”

His words filled her with the wildest surge of longing she’d ever experienced. She concentrated on her coffee cup so he wouldn’t see the hunger in her eyes.

While she had normal impulses when it came to men, she didn’t consider herself overly passionate. At least, she wasn’t inclined to leap into bed with every handsome man she met. But where Matt was concerned, well, she kept getting ideas.

“We’ve shared a lot in a short time,” she reminded him, as he had her. “It makes for an unexpected closeness. Or else New Orleans is working its magic on us.”

“Black magic or white?” he asked wryly.

She met his gaze with a level one of her own. “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “I do know that I want to find out about Patti, where she was from, what will happen to her…to the remains.”

“Do you want to see if the authorities will let us arrange for a cremation?”

“Could we?” she asked, giving him a hopeful look. “We also need to find out the location of the plantation that woman mentioned last night.”

“So we can put her spirit to rest there,” he finished.

Kerry was touched that he understood her thoughts
completely. “It’s important. I don’t know why. I’ve never believed in voodoo or anything like that, but I would like to do that for her. There was something about her that made me feel I knew her much better than I did. She was so kind to me, and I can’t bear the thought that no one cares, that no one grieves for her.”

Thinking of her own close-knit family, Kerry couldn’t fathom having no one to mourn a death.

“Maybe we can find someone,” he said. “Let’s check with the museum and see what they know about her since the restaurant didn’t have much information.”

“Good idea.”

The waiter brought Matt’s breakfast. For the next hour, Kerry and Matt made plans.

K
ERRY STOPPED
in front of the museum, reluctant to enter, as if bad news awaited her if she went inside.

“Something wrong?” Matt asked in his discerning manner.

“It was only two days ago that I first came here, Saturday afternoon at two o’clock as Patti suggested. It seems much longer.”

“Because so much has happened since then,” he said, holding the door for her.

They went inside. As before, burning incense sticks filled the air with spicy odors. Beneath that, the smell of mold permeated the old house, reminding her of decay and death. She hadn’t particularly noticed that on Saturday.

Standing beside the table where she’d had tea with Patti, she waited for someone to appear.

Footsteps on the stairs told her someone was coming from the upper floor. A man appeared. He had a beard and long hair. Both were streaked with gray, although he didn’t look over forty.

“Hello,” he said with a friendly smile.

Kerry was relieved to see that he was dressed in well-faded jeans and a T-shirt, although a tiny gold ring pierced the edge of one eyebrow.

“Good morning,” Kerry and Matt answered together.

Matt motioned for her to continue. “We’re here about Patti—Queen Patrice,” she added.

The man looked thoughtful and sad. “I talked to the police yesterday. The detective told me what happened. Are you friends of hers?”

“We met her recently,” Matt said. “We wanted to find out if you know where she’s from and if she has any family.”

The man shook his head. “We told the cops all we knew, which wasn’t much. My wife and I will miss her. She was a very reliable employee. The tourists liked her, too.”

“She took my picture with Jolie,” Kerry told him, “so I could impress my nephew.”

The owner smiled. “Yes, she was great with the pythons.” He studied them a second. “She didn’t have any family that I know of.”

“Oh,” Kerry said despondently.

“You know, you might find out more about Patti at the warehouse where she was working on a Mardi Gras float. She said a friend of hers was in charge of getting part of the float done and that his father was the krewe king.”

Kerry tried to relate this information to the few facts she recalled about Mardi Gras floats. The “krewe” was the sponsoring group for the float. There was always a king, usually an older, prominent citizen, and a queen or princess, often a young beautiful woman.

That sounded sexist to her, but it wasn’t her concern at the moment. The detective had mentioned a boyfriend. That was the best lead they had so far. “Do you know where the warehouse is located?”

“Yes. Here, I’ll show you on a map.” He took a pamphlet from the table and opened it.

Kerry and Matt looked over his shoulder while he drew an X to indicate the museum and another to show them where the warehouse was located near the river but past the French Quarter. He handed them the map, which was the usual one given to visitors by shops and hotels.

“Do you know the friend’s name?” Matt asked.

“Sorry, I don’t. Patti was friendly with everyone, but she was reserved when it came to her personal data. However, she did tell us amusing stories about working on the float and the frustration of dealing with hundreds of volunteers.”

“Thank you so much for your time,” Kerry said, knowing they’d gotten all the info the man had.

Matt expressed his appreciation, too, and shook hands with the man. Outside, he and Kerry stopped under a shade tree and checked the map.

“This way,” he said, pointing down the street. “It’s several blocks. Do you want to walk or grab a taxi?”

“Would you mind walking? If I continue with the decadent desserts, I’m going to need the exercise.”

“Okay. Let’s go down to the river and stroll along it. We may as well enjoy the scenery.”

When he held out his arm, she found it very natural to rest her hand in the bend of his elbow as they headed for the riverfront.

K
ERRY AND
M
ATT
found the street that led to the Warehouse District. The street name was Tchoupitoulas, but neither Matt nor Kerry knew how to pronounce it.

“After checking out the warehouse,” Matt said, “we should go for a ride on a steamer, maybe have lunch aboard.”

“Sounds fun. I want to tour some of the plantations, too.”

“Okay, we’ve got a plan.”

He gave her an easy smile that made her heart feel lighter and her blood warmer. Although they had to avoid areas of construction, which was still going on as a result of hurricane damage, they found an interesting mix of galleries and shops in the area.

When at last they reached the address marked on the map by the museum owner, they discovered a huge warehouse. Its doors stood wide open, and inside, volunteers swarmed over the framework of an impressive flower-bedecked float.

“I think it’s a garden,” Kerry said.

“It is,” a young man told them, hurrying over with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other. He looked to be in his early twenties, tall and attractive with black hair and light blue-gray eyes. He didn’t even glance at them. “Whose team are you on?”

“None,” Matt answered. “Uh, I’m Matt Anderson. We met yesterday at your home.”

“Matt, of course.” The younger man switched the pencil to his other hand and shook hands with Matt, apologizing at once for not recognizing him.

“Kerry, this is Jason Pichante. His father hosted the wine-tasting I attended yesterday afternoon. Jason, Kerry Johnston. Like me, Kerry’s a guest in your fair city.”

“Welcome to the Big Easy,” Jason said.

Kerry thought his manner somewhat preoccupied and distant even as he smiled graciously.

“Sorry, Matt, Kerry,” Jason continued, “but only workers are allowed in. You’re not allowed in. However, you may watch from the door as long as you don’t go inside. Or you can help on the cottage garden,” he suggested.

When Matt glanced at Kerry, she nodded. This was
a chance she didn’t want to miss. Maybe they could find Patti’s friend and he could tell them how to locate her family or at least verify that she had been alone in the world.

“Working on the float sounds like fun,” Matt said. He turned to Kerry. “This will be something to brag about to our friends and families when we watch the Mardi Gras parade on television.”

“We’ll probably be snowed in and wish we were back here where the weather is beautiful,” Kerry added ruefully.

“Let me get your names and addresses,” Jason told them. “You’ll have to sign releases in case of an accident.”

After he got all the personal information required by insurance companies, he had them sign the city’s release forms and then introduced them to his assistant, a friendly young blonde named Ashley James.

“Welcome to the crew,” she said enthusiastically.

“Is that crew with a
c
or krewe with a
k?
” Kerry asked.

Ashley grinned. “With a
c
. We’re just worker bees here. Jason is a member of the krewe putting the float together. His dad is the king, in fact.”

“What shall we do?” Matt asked before Kerry could say anything about Patti’s boyfriend. He gave her a warning squeeze on the arm to be patient.

Kerry listened carefully to the instructions. She and Matt were assigned the task of stringing support wires between rebar poles for the “flowers” that would
bloom there. Every flower on the float, they learned, would be made from actual plant material.

After working for two hours with six other people, a break was called. Sodas and iced tea were served along with Mardi Gras cakes and cookies.

“Chew carefully,” Ashley said when Kerry chose one of the cakes. “Those are king cakes and have tokens in them.”

“As a dental hygienist, that possibility worries me,” Kerry told her. She and Matt found a place to sit with their backs against the warehouse wall.

“I’ll try not to break a tooth on a trinket,” he promised with a grin.

Kerry was glad she was sitting. His smile was enough to make her knees go weak, especially after they’d been working so closely all morning. Their shoulders, arms and hands had touched constantly as she held the wires in place while he twisted them around the supports with pliers.

His scent had mingled with hers, giving her heady ideas about heated caresses in a cool, dim room.

“Matt,” she said, directing her thoughts to the reason they were here, “do you think Jason Pichante could be the friend mentioned by the museum owner? If his father is the krewe king, then he must be, don’t you think?”