Rue Toulouse (7 page)

And who do I choose to prove it to but a smooth-talking, sexy pirate who I’ll probably never see again?
And if she did see him again what would she say? Thanks for showing me I’m capable of feeling passion? She shook her head. Considering her behavior, she doubted if she could look him in the eyes.

She laid her head back and let the gently swirling water surround her. But deep in her heart, she wanted nothing more than to be held in Remi’s arms and feel his lips on hers.

Remi cursed as he stepped onto the deserted street outside the LaBeaus’ home.
If you want to play games, Princess, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.
As he slid onto the leather seat of his black convertible Thunderbird, something sharp stabbed his leg. He removed the offending object from his pocket and switched on the car’s interior light.

Well, Princess, it’s not a glass slipper, but it’s about as grand.
Light reflected off the tiny diamonds bordering the fleur-de-lis hair clip. If he had any sense, he’d give the hair clip to Paul and chalk tonight up to an incredible encounter with a beautiful elusive princess.

When he’d approached her, he had never imagined in his wildest fantasy that his princess would turn out to be the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind. The lady was certainly full of surprises. One minute her beautiful sky-blue eyes gazed at him with shy unease. The next minute they blazed with desire.

As he sat staring at the hair clip, he could still taste the sweetness of her lips on his. His fingers could feel the silkiness of her skin. “Damn.” He leaned back in the seat. Every instinct he possessed told him to walk away.

He turned the key in the ignition. But he knew his attraction for the lady was too strong to ignore.
You’re out there somewhere, and like it or not, I’m going to find you. When I do, we’ll see if I’m still as love-struck as I am now, or if tonight was nothing more than two strangers caught up with each other and the night.

When he stopped in front of his apartment in the French Quarter, Remi sat holding the hair clip in his palm.
Princess, if I’m lucky enough that we meet again, I promise to make our next encounter better than a tumble in someone’s backyard.

Chapter Six

Jean Lafitte’s hands were slowly making their way down her hot body, his mouth trailing kisses across her sensitive breasts. He teased and caressed his way over her stomach, only stopping when his mouth finally reached her . . .

Caterine sat bolt upright in her bed, breathing hard, blinking in confusion, shaking her head to clear the erotic dream. She reached for the phone that had blessedly awakened her.

“Hello,” she croaked.

“My dear, did I awaken you?”

“That’s okay, Grandmère.” Caterine glanced at the clock. “I didn’t plan to sleep this late.”

“I thought perhaps you could accompany me to Mass, but I see that’s unlikely. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“What?”

“Caterine, are you sure you’re awake? I’m talking about the party at the LaBeaus’. I assumed since you’re still in bed you must have stayed late.”

“I’m sorry, Grandmère. I guess I’m not quite awake and, yes, I did enjoy myself last night.”
And I pray you never find out how much.
Caterine tossed back the blankets and sat on the edge of the bed. “I can be ready in a few minutes if you wish for me to go with you.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll have Thomas drive me.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

“Caterine, I need to speak with you in private. I’d like you to join me at Brennan’s after Mass. Can you do that?”

“Sure, I’ll be happy to meet you. Does this have to do with what occurred at Ma Chérie yesterday?”

“I’ll explain when I see you. Please call and make our reservation. Make sure to tell them I wish to have my usual table.”

“All right, Grandmère. I’ll see you later.”

In her kitchen, as she scooped Café Du Monde coffee into a cafetière, the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“I found out a little more about your pirate,” Elaine said excitedly.

Caterine laughed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

“Cat, I don’t have time for pleasantries. Paul is dressing the boys and I don’t want him to hear me talking to you. He’s already been asking me if I’m sure you weren’t at the party.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him no, you weren’t here.”

“Did he believe you?”

“I don’t know. He looked at me kind of funny. He’ll be here any minute to leave for church. Do you want to hear what I found out or not?”

“Of course I want to hear.”

“He’s thirty-three years old and has never been married. Here’s the best part—he doesn’t have a current girlfriend. So far so good, right?”

“I suppose.”

“What do you mean,
I suppose
? He’s absolutely perfect.”

Caterine cleared her throat. “He’s that, all right.”

“According to Paul, he was a damn good cop,” Elaine continued. “He said he’s never known such an honest, trustworthy person. So when do I get to hear all of the details from last night? I still can’t believe you jumped his bones in my arbor.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that myself.” Caterine sighed. “As far as details, there aren’t any.”

“Oh, come on. You can begin with how you ended up in my arbor.”

“Speaking of which, I need you to look for my diamond clip.”

“In the arbor?”

“Yes.”

Elaine laughed. “That good, was it? Damn, here comes Paul and the boys. Why don’t we meet for lunch and you can fill me in. And don’t think you’re going to get away with not telling me because I’m going to hound you until you do.”

“You can be a real pest, you know that?”
 

Elaine chuckled. “So where do you want to meet?”

“I can’t today. I’m meeting Grandmère at Brennan’s after church. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow will work. I’ll drop the boys off at my mother’s. Where should we go? Pick someplace where we can hide in a corner.”

“How about Le Tea Pot? They have that lovely courtyard with a noisy fountain.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you there at noon.”

When once again Remi’s face swam through Caterine’s mind, she distracted herself by calling Brennan’s. After speaking with the maître d’, she went to her front door to retrieve the morning paper. She sat at the kitchen counter, nibbling at an apple-filled croissant and drinking black coffee. She tried her best to concentrate on an article dealing with housing reconstruction scams after Hurricane Katrina, but Remi’s face kept blurring the print.

“Stop it.” She slammed her cup onto the saucer.
You have to stop thinking about him. Stop reliving last night, and definitely stop thinking about seeing him again. When you meet Elaine tomorrow you can’t allow her to convince you otherwise. Stop wasting time fantasizing about a man who’s probably already forgotten you.

She placed her plate and cup in the dishwasher and with a determined set to her mouth went to get dressed.

Remi, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, sat with one booted foot propped up on the wrought iron railing of his small balcony, watching amusedly as Toulouse Street came to life.

Car horns honked, people shouted greetings, a horse and carriage carrying tourists clopped quickly by, and, in the background, always the music.

I love this city.
He smiled, watching as an older black man dressed entirely in gold walked past singing.

Remi breathed in the familiar smells of the French Quarter—a combination of spicy food, chicory coffee, spilled beer, and the Mississippi. As he sipped his strong café au lait, his mind drifted back to the night before. He’d awakened that morning hard and ready after a dream in which he was about to enter his princess’ sweet little body.

Damn it, Michaud, get a grip. You had a very pleasant encounter with a beautiful woman who for some reason ran away and doesn’t want her identity known. She probably ran away because you were all over her like a horny teenager on his first date.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, hesitated, then put them back. Of all the women he’d known, he’d never lost his self-control as he had with his princess.

You’ve got two choices. Forget about the lady and spend the rest of your life getting a hard-on dreaming about her
—
and save yourself from being used by another spoiled, self-centered uptown bitch like Desiree—or try your damnedest to find out who she is and give the lady a chance. This time going in with your eyes wide open. If she turns out to be a user, you walk.

As he stood to go into his apartment, a red Mercedes coupe driving slowly by caught his attention. Remi stared in disbelief as, through the open sunroof, he spotted long blond hair held back by a silver fleur-de-lis clip identical to the one now resting on his bedside table.

His heart pounding, unable to believe his luck, he leaned over the rail and called, “Hey, Princess, wait. Damn.” He swore as a delivery van pulled up so close to the Mercedes’ bumper he couldn’t read the plate.
 

Remi ran through his apartment and down to the street. He reached the sidewalk and cursed fluently in French. The car wasn’t anywhere in sight. He turned right on Toulouse toward Royal and headed in the direction she’d been going.

Caterine impatiently tapped her fingers on the car’s wooden steering wheel. She was going to be late, and Grandmère wasn’t going to be pleased. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

First, a fender bender had held her up on St. Charles. Making her way to Conti Street, she’d been rerouted due to a broken water main. Now here she sat in traffic on Toulouse. When the out-of-state car in front of her began to move, she could have sworn she heard a man yelling “Princess.”

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she saw a heavyset man smiling at her from the cab of a delivery van.

Making her way to Royal, she stopped in front of Brennan’s. Frustrated, she searched for a parking place then spotted her grandmother’s driver, Thomas, sitting in a black Lincoln. Caterine rolled down her window. “Hello, Thomas, have you been here long?”

“No, miss, only about fifteen minutes or so. Miss Dauphine is waiting inside.”

“I’ve had one problem after another trying to get here and now I don’t know where I’ll park.”