Midnight Soul (65 page)

“I thought—” he started.

“Fillet steak
en croute
with pâté and
sautéed mushrooms,” she demanded.

Noc beat back his chuckles.

“Babe, I’m not making beef Wellington.”

“That’s what that’s called here?” she
asked.

“Uh, yeah, and it’s tricky and a pain in the
ass. I’ll make steak, though, and fire up the grill.”

“That’s acceptable,” she agreed. “We’ll serve
it with
patates royales
.”

“What the fuck is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “It’s potatoes,
and I would say cream, salt, pepper, other things. They’re mashed
to creamy goodness then piped into fluffy parcels and baked—”

“Frannie, I’m not pipin’ shit into fluffy
anything and not just because I have no clue how to pipe.”

“They’re delicious and elegant,” she returned
impatiently.

It was time to nip this in the bud.

“Right, gorgeous. You got a choice of loaded
baked or mashed or we can go out tomorrow and buy a deep fat fryer
so I can fry some frozen French fries. I’ll grill some asparagus.
And this is New Orleans, there’s gonna be about seven thousand
places we can go to find really fuckin’ good desserts and even
better rolls. That’ll be our mission for the rest of the day. If
you want, you can buy a couple four hundred dollar bottles of wine
and a kickass whisky, which, my guess, is this dude’s thing. And
that’s what we’re doing without me having to pipe anything or
wrestle with pastry dough. You with me?”

She wasn’t with him and she shared that by
declaring, “My ideas for the menu are far more impressive.”

“And if you want, instead we can spend the
day finding a chef who’ll haul his ass to my house to make them
since I’m not doin’ any of that.”

She glared at him.

He fought the need to kiss her.

He won the fight but did it wrapping both
arms around her, pulling her closer and dipping his face to
hers.

“He’s into her, babe. He’s not gonna even
taste anything we put in front of him. We could serve him a box of
cardboard painted like a beef Wellington and he would probably eat
it. He has no clue the forces that are drawing him to Circe. He’s
also a man who doesn’t care. His gut says go for it, he’s going for
it. He’ll handle this. He’ll do all the work. We’re just gonna be
there so she’s in a safe place in her head to let him.”

She looked appeased and acted it, snuggling
closer.

“And she was good with you earlier? She
seemed bolstered?” she asked.

“Told you that, baby. She’s a little freaked
but she’s powering through it.”

Frannie started fiddling with the collar of
his shirt, her eyes dropping to her fingers to watch.

“Also told you she feels bad about what she
said to you,” he reminded her.

She lifted her eyes but kept her fingers at
his shirt. “She shouldn’t.”

“I know you think that but that’s who she
is.” He bent his head closer to her. “Before we go to the market,
you wanna call her? Check in?”

Her eyes lit with a cautious light.

“Do you think she’d welcome that?”

He nodded.

“Then it would please me to do this before we
go to the market.”

He gave her a squeeze. “You got her number in
your phone, babe.”

She gave a short nod that time, rolled up on
her toes and touched her mouth to his before she pulled away.

She went to her purse sitting on his island,
its location meaning she was all the way on the other side of it
before she spoke again.

“After I ascertain all is well, I’ll ask her
opinion about the menu.”

Noc grinned.

His little schemer.

She could connive all she wanted.

Circe wasn’t going to taste anything
either.

Hell, what he saw last night, he wouldn’t be
surprised if Dax swept his dining-room table free of dishes and
food, and Circe climbed up herself necessitating Franka and Noc
giving them some privacy.

This meant he was doing his woman on the
dining-room table that night.

If anyone was going to fuck there, it was
going to be him and his sweet little schemer who broke the
seal.

Happy?

Franka

“Not that one, the one you had on before,”
Josette declared.

It was late the next afternoon and Jo and I
were lounging atop Noc’s bed, Valentine standing at its side behind
us, as Circe stood in the doorway of Noc’s bathroom having just
shown us the third outfit she’d brought to wear for our dinner with
Dax.

“I prefer the first, that little dress you
showed us is very flattering,” I stated.

“I’d prefer not to be here,” Valentine
murmured from behind us.

I rolled partially to my back and aimed a
glower at her.

She visibly sighed and crossed her arms on
her chest.

“Isn’t the dress too revealing?” Circe asked,
and I looked back to her.

“Precisely,” I answered, and it was, though
only legs, arms, shoulders, a hint of cleavage and nearly all of
her back.

“It’s a dinner at Noc’s house, don’t you
think it should be more casual?” Jo asked me. “This one seems, for
this world,
businessy
.” She flung an arm out at Circe who
was now wearing a slim skirt, a satin blouse and a rather becoming
pair of what was known in this world as “pumps.” “The jeans and
cute little blouse say
confident
and
at home
,” she
went on.

“The jeans have rips in them,” I pointed
out.

“It’s the fashion here, Frannie,” Jo
returned. “You’ve seen it, surely.”

“I have and it’s beyond me,” I replied and
carried on, “Why would anyone wear anything that was torn? It makes
no sense. Furthermore, those jeans don’t go all the way to her
ankles and they’re ill-fitting.”

“They’re skinny jeans and they’re cropped.
That’s the way they’re supposed to be too,” Josette rejoined.

“And both, as well, are beyond me,” I
asserted.

“Yes, well, Circe has a fine arse and those
jeans do wonders for it,” Jo shot back. “Now, you also have a fine
arse. So I suggest you put them on and saunter out to see how Noc
reacts when he sees you in them. Then you can say it’s beyond
you.”

She had a point. Circe’s bum looked
spectacular in those jeans.

And although my legs, neck, mouth and hair
were my best features (this I didn’t think because of conceit, but
rather because Noc told me), I also had been made aware that I had
a rather alluring backside (this Noc had
demonstrated
to
me).

Perhaps the jeans weren’t a bad idea.

“That blouse,” Valentine stated. “With the
jeans and those pumps. Undo at least one more button on the blouse,
or if you feel you can carry it off, two. The thin gold necklace
that comes to the point at your breastbone and dangles in chains
that you were wearing when you arrived. The hoop earrings you wore
with the first outfit. And for the love of the goddess, wear your
hair down. You’ve an extraordinary face, neck and collarbone, but
that hair should not be hidden. Not tonight.”

“By Hermia, that would be perfect, casual but
still dressy as well as unique,” Jo breathed with keen
approval.

I turned my gaze from Valentine to Circe,
envisioning this ensemble in my head and thinking that Valentine
was onto something.

Circe caught my eyes.

“I approve,” I declared.

Josette sat up in the bed, bounced on her bum
and clapped, crying, “It’s unanimous!”

A sudden, alarming expression stole over
Circe’s face.

I tensed.

She muttered, “I may be sick,” and dashed
into the bathroom.

I looked only briefly to Josette then to
Valentine before I pushed up from the bed and dashed after her.

I closed the door behind me as I entered to
see she was standing before the toilet deep breathing.

I did not get close but I did not stop
far.

“My dear,” I said softly.

She looked to me.

“I don’t know…” she shook her head. “I don’t
know…” she repeated, drew in a breath then forged on, “It’s silly,
ridiculous even. I saw him. I saw his face. The look in his eyes
when he gazed at me. I
saw
. And I don’t understand.” She
threw out her hands at her side helplessly. “Why am I so
nervous?”

“Because you’ve been taught not to want
anything at the same time being taught that every second of your
life can only bring you to new levels of pain, so you’ve been
taught not to hope,” I answered. “Now, there’s hope. More than
hope, a promise. And it frightens you.”

“Yes, that’s it,” she murmured, looking to
the toilet.

“Step away from there,” I ordered gently.

I watched her struggle to calm herself as she
did as she was told and came closer to me.

I reached out and took both of her hands.

“I understand this feeling,” I shared.
“Perhaps not precisely as you’re feeling it, but I can assure you,
when the threat that was always looming from my parents was swept
away, I could not find it in myself to comprehend how to live a
life without that threat darkening every moment.”

Her fingers squeezed mine as she whispered,
“I’m sorry for that for you, but I’m also glad to hear of it for
that’s exactly how I feel.”

“Baldur is dead,” I reminded her, both
necessarily and unnecessarily.

“I know this,” she replied.

“You have powerful allies, not only in this
world, but in our old one.”

“I know this too.”

“I know you do,” I said. “And I know such
abundance is hard to come to terms with when your life was so void
of it before.” I tightened my hold on her and gave her a small
smile. “I also know that you
will
come to terms with it.
Alas, you need to go through these feelings you’re going through.
But eventually it will either sink in or something extraordinary
will happen to make you understand it to the depths of your
soul.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Was it Noc
that helped you understand that?”

I nodded. “Noc, indeed, most definitely. But
also others. My brother. Valentine. Frey. But Noc was the catalyst
for all that. He was dogged in making certain I saw myself for who
I was, not who I was forced to be. And his efforts made me open to
what the others were offering me. All of which showed me the me I
was meant to be. And he was all that even before we became what
we’ve become. He was that just simply being my friend.”

“He was in love with you from the beginning,
you know.”

At this unexpected statement in the course of
our discussion, I blinked as my body gave a start.

“He shared this with you?” I asked.

This time, she nodded, and it was then I
noted that our time in that bathroom was no longer about me
reassuring her. She was studying me closely, her mind intent on
something that was not the arrival in two hours of Dax Lahn.

“He says when all that happened to you
happened, he just happened to be the one who was there for you, and
since he was in love with you, or on the path to just that, he was
lucky that what grew of that was what you both have now.”

Although this delighted me, and troubled me,
I dropped her hands and moved slightly away.

“With what you have with Noc, should you be
sharing this with me?” I queried.

She shrugged one shoulder, her gaze still
fixed on me. “Perhaps not, strictly speaking, as I’m his friend.
But when I’ve not been making myself sick with nerves considering
all that could go wrong tonight, I was thinking about his words,
perplexed by them enough to find them disquieting. And they were
disquieting enough I feel the need to share them.”

I understood her disquiet.

However, I did not feel comfortable
discussing them with her.

Circe did not have the same discomfort.

“I shared that I understood very much what
you might be feeling in finding a man like him in your life. He not
only disputed it, he refused to discuss it.”

That was not troubling.

That was distressing.

“Are you aware he has these feelings?” she
asked, and the tone of her voice made my attention sharpen on
her.

Circe may have lived through much but she’d
been sequestered, indeed actually imprisoned through most of it.
She hadn’t lived in my world where, to survive, one had to become
adept at interpreting every look, mannerism and intonation.

Thus she didn’t know she was not hiding from
me that this conversation was not about Noc.

It was about understanding in her heart that
I would see to Noc.

Thus I proceeded cautiously.

“I hope you understand that, with a man like
Noc, not to mention your and my own relationship being new, that
I’m feeling some discomfort discussing something with you I
wouldn’t even discuss with Josette.”

Her look turned guarded when she replied, “Of
course.”

“He’s mine,” I stated.

I saw her frame tighten.

I carried on.

“I’ll see to him.”

And I would.

And it would seem I needed to cease
dillydallying and do just that.

She continued regarding me closely before her
mouth softened and her eyes warmed.

“I’m glad.”

“Now,” I said crisply, making it clear we
were finished with that subject, “are you to change now or wait for
closer to when Dax arrives?”

“Now,” she answered. “If I wear this blouse,
I need to redo my makeup because I’ve done it in bronzes and it
needs to be pinks. That’ll take time.”

The blouse was a lovely shade of blush.

In other words, she was quite correct in
that.

I began to move away, murmuring, “I’ll leave
you to it.”

“Franka,” she called when I’d nearly made the
door.

I turned back to her.

“I’m happy you’re happy,” she said. “And I’m
happy you’re making
him
happy.”