FrenchQuarter.htm by Alexander Lacey (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

of her silken hair and wondered why he’d said that. He’d meant it—he’d wanted her to come to his place, fall asleep with him—but it wasn’t his common reaction to sex, no matter how hot. He was real good at keeping things distant, being aloof. Usually.

“I think,” she began slowly, “I should probably go home and…break up with Todd.”

“Fuck Todd,” he said. “Give him a night to worry.”

He gazed down on her pretty face, watched her thinking it over. Finally, she looked up at him. “Do you always invite women you barely know back to your place? I thought guys liked to be careful about that sort of thing.”

She was right—guys did. He did. Always. Before now.

He told himself this meant nothing, then tilted his head. “Look, I’m thinkin’ you don’t know this idiot fiancé of yours as well as you thought, and for all we know, he’s some kinda maniac. He probably went home a little drunk, and if you come in lookin’ like you’ve been out with some other guy…I just don’t think it’s a great idea.”

Thinking it over, Liz nodded. Jack made some good points. Breaking up with Todd wasn’t going to be pleasant, but doing it late at night when she probably reeked of sex, and certainly looked like a woman who’d gone out seeking that kind of action, probably wasn’t the wisest move. “All right,” she finally said.

“We can pick up some donuts at the all-night bakery on the way.”

“Donuts?” she asked with surprise, putting her dress back into place while Jack zipped up and tucked in.

“Mais, I dig carbs after sex,” he said, laughing at himself.

Liz laughed, too. How the hell had this happened? She’d behaved like the total slut she wasn’t, and still she felt incredibly happy and alive—and this man had even invited her back to his place? As they exited the alley hand in hand, she said, “I don’t usually…do the things I did tonight.”

“I know,” he said as they started up Bourbon.

“How do you know?”

“The sexy clothes and sultry looks are very seductive, chere, but as the evenin’ progressed, your innocence showed.”

She protested in mock anger. “I’d hardly call myself innocent.”

“Not after tonight,” he offered in retort, laughing.

“By the way,” she said, “just so you know, I’m on the pill.”

Next to her, his eyes fell shut and he looked as if he’d been caught at something. “Yeah, about that.” He lowered his gaze to her. “I definitely should have taken the time to get out a condom, but …”

“But what?”

“But my only thought was gettin’ inside you as fast as humanly possible.”

Her face flushed with heat as her eyes met his.

“Anyway, no worries. I’m safe. I’ve always been real careful about that sort of thing.”

“Up to now, you mean,” she said.

He gave her a soft grin. “Yeah, up to now.”

They talked more as they walked toward Jack’s place and Liz thought of all the years she’d kept this wild, sexual side of herself hidden—perhaps even from herself. Yet tonight she’d driven Jack to the same heights she herself had experienced. She wasn’t sure where things with him would go or how long they would last—hell, maybe by tomorrow he’d be ready to say ‘so long’—but no matter what the outcome, she was incredibly glad she’d found this hot sexy man who could set this side of her free.

* * * * *

Upon reaching Jack’s place, they sat out on the wrought iron balcony overlooking the quieter end of Bourbon Street. A sweet night breeze blew over them as they ate the donuts they’d picked up on the way and talked more. Liz used the opportunity to tell Jack a little about her family’s expectations and how set they were on her marrying Todd. “Frankly, I think if I’d have moved away from Maryland on my own or with anyone in the world other than Todd, they’d have done everything in their power to make me stay. But since it was Todd’s idea, they were all for it.”

Jack also told Liz more about himself. He’d been raised in nearby Terrebonne Parish, and his mother was a tenth generation Acadian whose family traced its roots all the way back to French Canada in the 1700’s. “My grandemaman, she lived in a little house on stilts back in the bayou—couldn’t get there without takin’ a pirogue. She knew all the old Cajun stories and traditions. But my maman wanted to leave the swamps, so she and my dad packed us up and moved us into town.”

Jack had trekked to the Big Easy to attend Tulane at the age of eighteen, he then told her, where he’d majored in Accounting. “I loved the city, but by the time I graduated from college, I was disillusioned by big business and decided I wouldn’t be happy in the corporate world, so I started my detective agency. Been in the same location since day one. I’ve got a lucrative business and could afford to fancy things up if I wanted, but I think in a place like the Quarter, people don’t always like flash. The tourists maybe, but the tourists aren’t the ones payin’ my bills. The folks who live in New Orleans are drawn by things that are old and authentic, traditional, so that’s how I keep my business.”

“What about your parents?” Liz asked, taking the first bite from a big glazed donut.

“What about them?”

She grinned. “What are they like? I told you about mine—controlling and rigid. Tell me about yours.”

“Not a lot to tell,” he said, tearing a chocolate frosted donut into two pieces. “They divorced by the time I was twelve. I was an only child, and I stayed with my dad. Saw my maman on weekends, but she wasn’t a typical mom. By the time she left us, she wanted to leave more than the swamps—she wanted to leave Lou’siana altogether. So she took off for New York around the time I started at Tulane, and I haven’t seen her since.”

Liz was stunned,