Levi's Blue: A Sexy Southern Romance (15 page)

“That’ll do? I didn’t tell you
anything
! You just made that up!” I cry in mock outrage.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

The truly sad thing is, he’s not wrong at all.  I buy white because it’s the best way to make sure I never wear the wrong color with light-colored pants or skirts, and they’re easier for me to launder without turning other things pink or gray.  But the way he describes them… Damn! He even makes
me
think I’m sexy!

“You should be in marketing. For women’s clothes.”

“Ha! So I’m right!”

I cover my grin with my free hand, muffling my response.  “Yes, you’re right.”

“Oh man, am I gonna have some mouthwatering dreams tonight,” he growls.

I continue shaking my head at his delight, all the while wondering to myself if I’ve ever
really
been in love, and if I’m in worse trouble with Levi than I thought.

CHAPTER 14

LEVI

WE ARRIVE at the hotel with plenty of time to get settled before lunch and then the bayou. I pull up to the curb at the entrance and hop out before the young valet can get to Evie’s door. 

I hold up my hand to stop him. “I’ll get it. You can just grab the bags, please. One’s in the back seat.”  I tip him well and then turn my attention to the woman in the passenger seat.  Her expression is pleasant yet blank. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, especially with her sunglasses on.

I open her door, and she smiles reflexively. I reach for her hand. “Welcome to New Orleans, m’lady.”

She grips my fingers, and I help her out of the car. I notice that her cane is nowhere to be found, probably folded and stowed away in her purse.

When she straightens and moves to the side so I can close the door, I notice her fingers tighten around mine, the only outward indication that she might be feeling ill at ease.

“Aren’t you supposed to call it ‘N’awlins’?”

There’s a slight tremor in her fingers when I move her hand to the bend of my elbow. I cover them with mine.  I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable. In fact, for whatever reason, I want her to have the time of her life, and I want her to be perfectly at ease while she does.

We start off toward the lobby entrance. “They’d probably kick me out if they heard a New Yorker try to pull that off.”

“It’s not like you have a strong accent. If you hadn’t told me you’d grown up there, I’m not sure I’d have pegged you for a New Yorker.”

“Thank you. I think.”

Evie brings her other hand around and loops it through my arm, snugging her body up close to my side.  If this is how she’ll act, maybe I’d be wise not to let her get
too
comfortable.

“So tell me about the hotel,” she whispers as we walk.

“Well, it’s a refurbished home on the French Quarter, so they’ve worked to preserve a lot of that detail.  The moldings are thick, the woodwork is ornate, and the paint is…New Orleans.”

She giggles softly. “What does that mean?  ‘The paint is New Orleans’?”

“Well, there’s a lot of gold.  Or some variation of gold.  And there’s a little sitting area off to one side where the walls are painted a sort of burnt orange.  You know…New Orleans.”

She nods. “Okay, I’m getting a picture.  And the furniture?”

“French. Most definitely French.”

She grins again then inhales deeply. “Well, it smells divine!”

I take a second to sniff, to notice what she’s noticing.  “Tell me what this place looks like
to you.
”

“There’s not a lot of an echo, so I’m guessing there are lots of things on the walls. Tapestries or art work of some kind.  And probably a lot of things sitting around, too.  Furniture groupings, rugs, plants.”

I glance left and then right.  “You pretty much nailed it.”  And she did. It’s eerie and amazing.

“Like I said, not my first rodeo.”

“But it’s your first rodeo in
New Orleans
,” I clarify. I want her to experience new things, especially with me.  It feels almost like I’m giving her a gift.

“Yes. Thank you again for bringing me.”  Her lips are curved into a sublime yet shy smile and her chin is tucked a little.

I hook a finger under it and tilt her face up to mine. I don’t think twice about brushing my lips over hers. It seems like the most natural thing in the world.

Which will worry the shit out of me when I think about it later, I’m sure.

But right now I’m not thinking.

“This is the first time I’ve looked forward to traveling down here in a long, long time.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t pull away either, so I kiss her a little more firmly.  When she leans into me, I press my tongue into the warm, sweet cavern of her mouth. But just for a second.  I have to catch myself before I drag her in tight and do something not quite appropriate for this particular venue.

“Okay. Can’t do that in public,” I murmur, causing her to laugh lightly.

“Cinnamon,” she blurts.

“Sage,” I blurt in return.

“No, I smell cinnamon. That’s what smells so good.”

“Oh. I thought we were just naming spices.”

She shakes her head.  “You’re a mess.”

“But a hot mess, right? At least give me that.”

“How the hell should I know? I’m blind, remember?”

“You need some more original material.  I
feel sure
you have some mystical, flowery. mostly confusing way of getting a pretty damn good idea of what people look like. You could probably
paint me
if you tried.”

The color that floods her porcelain cheeks tells me all I need to know.

But “I think I can guess” is all she says.

I steer us toward a little niche in the lobby, out of the way, and then I stop again.  “Tell me how you see me.”

I’m nervous, which is crazy. But still…I am.

“Well, I only got to touch your face once, and it wasn’t like I could take my time and feel you up with a bunch of disabled kids looking on.”

I let the “feel you up” comment slide right now, and take both her hands in mine instead. I put them on either side of my face, along my jaw.  “No one’s watching now.”

“We’re in a hotel lobby, for Pete’s sake. In public!”

“We’re sort of secluded. Hidden almost.  And who the hell is Pete?”

She gives a giggle through her nose despite her discomfort, and leaves her hands on my face.  “God, you really
are
a mess.”

“Shut up and feel me.”

I watch her closely as she starts to move her hands over my face.  As she does, her smile begins to fade, and her brow wrinkles the tiniest bit. She’s concentrating.  Imagining.

“Tell me. Tell me what you feel,” I whisper, trying not to move.

“I feel a strong jaw.  Square.  Smooth skin.  You shaved this morning.”

“The least I could do.”

Her cool fingers work their way along my jaw and back, then around my chin and up to my bottom lip.  “A cleft.  That’s gotta be sexy.”

I laugh.  “As long as you think so.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her face takes on a dreamy quality, her lips relaxing, her brow smoothing.  “You’ve got a great mouth, wide, well defined. Your lips are full, but not
too full
or girly.”  When I smile, she smiles.  “And I know that must be a
killer
smile.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t read minds as well as you read rooms and faces.”

“Why is that?” she asks almost absently, her hands still moving up and over my face.

“You’d turn ten shades of red if you knew what a turn-on this is.”

“Having your features read by a blind woman is a
turn-on
?”

“No, having you touch me and tell me how you see me. 
That
is a turn-on.”

Again, she doesn’t respond.  “Your nose speaks to good breeding. It’s aristocratic.”  When I say nothing, she continues.  “Great bone structure, too.  High cheekbones, broad brow. I imagine your features would look chiseled.  Very handsome.”  Her fingers flutter over my temples before she brushes them around my eyes.  “But these…these tell the story.  It’s all in the eyes.  Without
actually seeing
them, it’s impossible to get a face just right. I wish I could see them, your eyes.”

“I wish you could, too,” I tell her, taking her hands by the wrists and kissing her palms before lacing my fingers through hers. “But what if you didn’t like what you saw?”

The skin between her brows pleats.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“What if you looked in them and realized I’m not the man you think I am?”

“Some people hide who they really are so well, it wouldn’t matter.  What matters is who I know you to be. How you act, the things you say.  How you treat me.”

“And what does all of that tell you?”

Her mouth opens and closes once. Whatever she was going to say, she thought better of it.  “I’m not sure yet.  But I have two more dates to find out.”

“Two more?  We went to dinner.  That leaves us with
three
more.”

“But you took me to lunch and you took me running, so technically this is number three. You only actually have
one more.
”

“Unacceptable!” I declare.  “You’re practically perfect, but your math sucks ass.  You can’t count worth a damn.  We didn’t even
make
the deal until the day we went running, so you can’t count
anything
before that. That means you owe me
three more
dates.  In fact, there’s a cheater’s penalty that I forgot to tell you about, which means now you owe me
four
more dates.”

We’re still standing so close that the huff of her quiet laughter breezes over my mouth.  “And you’re calling
me
the cheater?”

“Is there something wrong with me wanting to spend more time with you? Are you
complaining
about my company?”

Although she shakes her head and her lips twist wryly, I see her features soften, like maybe she’s never heard someone tell her that before.  “No, not at all. Your company is quite…stimulating.”

“Stimulating? I would be insulted if I didn’t know that was code for you wanna get in my pants.”

“That is
not
code for wanting to get in your pants,” she balks incredulously, but even as she does, she’s still smiling.

“So you’re
not
attracted to me.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t say that.”

“So you
do
wanna get in my pants. I knew it!” Before she can argue, I continue. “Well, never fear. I can hook you up.”

“You can, huh?”

I loop her arm through mine again and turn her back toward check-in.  “Yeah, I know a guy.”

“You know a
guy
?”

I stop suddenly, and she starts to laugh outright. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. That sounded bad.”

“Oh, no! You’re not taking that one back.”

“Damn you,” I taunt playfully as we resume our walk to the desk. I’m still grinning when I give them my name.

This woman…she brings something in me
to life.
Like a part of me has been dead, or at least dormant, up to now.  No woman has ever invigorated, aroused,
awakened
me the way she does.  And not just in a physical way.

I mean, I want her, of course.  Hell, I’ve closed my eyes and imagined her naked, moaning on top of me, taking me deep inside her hot, slick body more times than I can count.  If I jacked off every time I pictured us together lately, I’d already have open up a wormhole in time that would land me back at the age of sixteen.  That’s how I feel around her about half the time anyway—like a horny damn teenager.

But the thing is, it’s more than that.
A lot more.

I mean, I’ve had good relationships before—friendly, healthy, mature—but I’ve never felt so…addicted.  The more I get, the more I want. The more I know, the more I
want to know. 
The closer we get, the closer I
want to get.

I loved Rachel. I did. But back then, whether because of my youth or because she just wasn’t Evie,
even she
didn’t make me feel this way, make me feel
all these things. 

Maybe I’ll figure out why eventually.

I just know I plan on sticking around until I do.

CHAPTER 15

EVIE

AFTER WE checked in and got upstairs, Levi gave me a gentlemanly tour of the space, orienting me to my room, how it’s laid out, and how it relates to the common areas.  Without me asking him, he described a few things like the black-with-white-vein marble floors, the earth tone furnishings, and the ultra modern kitchenette.  Evidently, he spared no expense.  I don’t have to be able to
see
to recognize lavish furnishings when I feel them.

“Hmmm, you seem awfully good at this. Dated many blind women in the past?”

“Nope.”

“Just naturally awesome, is that it?”

“Of course.”

“Talked to Cherelyn?”

His pause was so long, so protracted and pronounced, that I could perfectly imagine the sheepish look on his face.

“Busted!” I blurted.

“Fine. I called Cherelyn. I wanted you to be comfortable.
I
wanted to be able to make you
comfortable.”

I made no comment after that. I got all choked up, touched that he would
care enough
to call her, flattered that he would
so want me
to feel at ease.

Finally, I ended up excusing myself to my room.

He gave me plenty of time to get out my things and freshen up before he whisked me away to a lunch of fried crawfish tails and a dessert of fresh beignets.

“I’m stuffed,” I tell him, rubbing my belly as he opens the car door for me.

“You need me to do that for you?”

I can almost see the quirk of his lips with his offer.  “Do you ever give up?”

“Nope, so you can get that right out of your head.”

I don’t tell him that I nearly perish at the thought that he
might
give up, that he
might
tire of me
.
I’d like
nothing more
than to get those suspicions out of my mind.

“Where are we going now?” I ask when he slides in behind the wheel.

“The bayou,
baby
.”

My stomach clamps down at the word.  It’s what I came for.  Well, sort of.  It’s something I’ve wanted to experience for years.

But…

I don’t know that I ever
really
expected it to happen, and now that the time is at hand…

Strong fingers encircle mine where they rest nervously in my lap. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

I want to say no. I want to smile. I want to be easy-breezy.

But I can’t.

My heart is racing, and moisture has begun to accumulate on my upper lip.

“Evie? What’s wrong?”

There is concern in his voice. It’s there, plain as the hand gripping mine, and somehow, it puts my mind at ease.

Well,
some
.

“It’s just…it’s a little scary.  The bayou.”

“A little scary,” he repeats.

“Actually, it’s a little terrifying.”

“A little terrifying.”

“Yeah.  To be out there, in the wild, on the water, when you can’t see.”

“On the water, when you can’t see.”

“Would you stop repeating what I say?” I half-bark, half-laugh.

“Sorry. I’m just…thinking.”

“We can still go. I
want
to go.  You just have to understand that it…it…it scares the shit out of me.”

He’s quiet for what seems like forever before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is close and quiet and soothing. 

“Evie, I’ve got you. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.  I swear it.”

The words are gently spoken, but as hard as steel.  In them, I feel the strength of his determination, the sturdiness of his pledge.  I feel certainty and comfort.

But it’s his next words that seal the deal.

“You can do this.”

What he doesn’t say is that it only takes courage. And that’s right. It
only
takes courage.  But courage is the hardest thing in the world sometimes.  When playing it safe is so much easier, when taking the path of least resistance is so much more pleasant, courage is even harder.

But he’s right.

I
can
do this.

And I
will
do this.

I nod, first a small dip of my head, but then it grows into a steady bob of assurance.

“You’re right. I can.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, pressing his lips to my cheek and then bringing my shaking hands to his mouth. “And when we get back—”

“Levi, I don’t mean to be rude, but shut the hell up and drive before I change my mind.”

“Got it,” he says, dropping my hands and starting the engine. 

I breathe a laugh. He pats my knee.  Then we dart off down the street. Destination bayou.

********

Aside from the fact that Levi had to pick me up and bodily deposit me into the two-person kayak, I think the whole trip went pretty well.

It took about fifteen minutes on the water for me to relax, but when I did, we slipped into an easy rhythm that made the entire journey a lush experience for all of my senses.

The bright sun was filtered through the cypress groves, shining intermittently on my face.  The humid air clung to my skin and hair, but served to keep me cool during our two-hour trip.

The sounds and smells, and Levi’s descriptions of the scenery made the outing the exquisite encounter that it was.  The croak of frogs, the chirp of crickets, and the trill of various birds coupled with the lap of water and Levi’s rhythmic paddling gave the afternoon a serene, idyllic quality I wasn’t expecting.

The smells weren’t always spectacular, but they did serve to paint a vivid mental picture of the terrain.  Moist vegetation, some of it rotting away beneath the muddled surface of the water, damp earth, and a highly functional ecosystem gave the air a distinct aroma that I will forever associate with the bayous.

But more than any of that was the absolute pleasure of Levi—his presence, his voice, his heart.  His attempts to help me “see” what he saw stole the show for me in a way I never would’ve anticipated.

“It’s like we’re alone in the world out here. All I see are blue skies and brown trees draped with every different shade of green imaginable. Everything else is…water.  And it’s the color of pale mud.  Sort of like café au lait. Do you know it?” he’d asked.

“I do,” I’d said.

“Part of it is covered with such a thick layer of bright green algae, the kayak is leaving a path in it. It moves like an oil slick when we pass, but it’s the color of an exotic tree frog.”

I knew the color of that, too. I could picture it with perfect clarity.

“And the trees?”

“Some are covered in dark green kudzu from the surface of the water all the way to the tip.  Others are dirt brown and have multiple trunks that just disappear into the deep. Those are a little more…artistic.  Their limbs are sparse and start high on the tree, and they’re decorated with wispy clumps of grayish green Spanish moss. It hangs from the branches like jewels from a queen’s ears.”

“I wonder what it feels like, the moss.”

“I bet it’s soft.”

“And dry.”

“Yeah, soft and dry.  But I much prefer soft and
wet
.”

I could almost hear the leer in his voice, almost imagine the waggle of his brows, and I laughed and shook my head. “Incorrigible.”

He described everything for me, did all that he could to make the ride as richly detailed as possible. And for as long as I live, when I look back on today, I’ll remember him most of all, and how hard he tried to give me the bayou. 

Really
give me the bayou.

It isn’t until we are back at the hotel that the emotion of it all, the enormity of what he’s done, settles in and wraps its warm arms around me.  Suddenly, I need to be close to him. As close as I can get, like if my skin is touching his, I’ll be able to make him understand, make him
feel
what I’m feeling.

The moment the elevator doors close, I reach for Levi, gripping his face in my hands and stretching up to press my mouth to his. Gratitude flows from me so purely, I don’t even realize I’m crying until Levi stills.

I lean back, but only so far because his arm is locked around my waist, holding me to him.

“What’s wrong?”  His voice is quiet, worried.

“Nothing. Not one damn thing. This day has just been so…so…
perfect
and I wanted to thank you.”

I lower my face.  Now I’m embarrassed. What an emotional wreck he must think  I am. Oh
God! 

I want to slink back to one corner of the elevator, but he won’t let me go.

“Then why the tears?”  As he asks, he uses his free hand to wipe one droplet from my cheek, retracing it with the back of his finger up to the outer corner of my eye.

“I don’t know. I just… It’s just that I’ve wanted to do this for so long, and I really didn’t think I’d ever be able to. And then, once I had the chance, I was almost too afraid to go. But you wouldn’t let me give up.
Because of you,
one of my dreams came true today.  I know it seems silly, but it’s just a big day for me.  And all of it thanks to you. I just wanted…I just wanted you to know how much it meant to me.”

Moving his fingers down until my chin is caught between them, Levi lowers his head and kisses me again.  He smells of pine and musk and the woods, and he feels like a sculpture in limestone pressed up against me.

This kiss is nothing like my kiss, though. This kiss is a slow, sensual assault on my mouth, a decadent symphony of taste and texture played out by the orchestra of his lips and tongue.

He licks at me in long, curling sweeps that hint at something else entirely. Something lower. Something sexual. Something erotic. He sips me, savors me, takes me out of my world, and plunges me deeply into his.  He sucks at my bottom lip, tugging gently, nipping lightly, and a throb develops low in my belly. My muscles squeeze with heat and need and want.

When he finally lifts his head, I’m panting and my every nerve is alive and tingling, focused squarely on him.

“What are you thinking?”  His words are a breath in the silence, a soft wind whistling between the erratic beats of my heart.

“That you are perfection.  Everything about you,” I admit candidly. I’m too happy to pretend, too content to lie.

Another woman likely wouldn’t have felt the change, wouldn’t have noticed the subtle stiffening.  But I do. I feel it like ice down my back.

“I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

“Maybe you are to me.”

Before he can argue any further, before he can pull away any more, the elevator door opens with a hushed swish and Levi releases me, taking my hand to lead me out.

We enter the suite in silence until he asks me, “Do you need help with anything in your room?”

“No, I… No.”

“Okay. I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”  He gives my hand a squeeze and then disappears.

I’m left wondering what just happened and
exactly
what it is that I don’t know about this man.

********

I’m just getting out of the shower when my phone rings, the audible caller ID telling me that it’s Cherelyn.

Before I can even greet her with a proper hello, she’s preempting me.  “Evie, are you sitting down?”

“Uh, no. I just got out of the shower.”

“Find a safe place to lean then.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Someone just bought seven more of your paintings.
Seven
!”

“Ho-holy shit!”

“Seven more, Evie. 
Seven
!”

“Seven. I can still hear, crazy woman,” I assure her teasingly.  “But are you sure?  Are you sure there hasn’t been some kind of mistake? Maybe the gallery made a mistake.”

“There was no mistake, Evie.  I double-checked, and it’s right.”

I sold seven paintings?  Seven more paintings?

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

“Holy shit,” I repeat, feeling a little bowled-over.

“Evie, do you even get what this means?  I mean, for God’s sake, you sold—”

“Seven paintings,” I finish for her, a bit awestruck.  My emotions are a chaotic mixture of confusion, elation, and disbelief.  “Seven paintings.  I don’t…I don’t even know what to say.”

“Laugh. Scream. Howl at the moon.  Do a cartwheel.  Wait, no, don’t do a cartwheel, but do
something,
Evie. This is huuuuge!”