Stranger, Seducer, Protector Page 5

  Features that had gone unnoticed before captured her attention. An intricate grapevine pattern in an iron gate. The twisted trunk of an aged oak tree. A storefront window etched in gold with a hand-painted border of magnolia blossoms.

  And all of it mingling with the almost giddy feeling of awareness that Nick invoked. Their shoulders brushed and he linked his hand with Jacinth’s.

  Her breath caught and held. She swallowed hard, determined not to let her emotions get out of hand. Still, feeling anything at all for Nick seemed crazy. They were virtual strangers.

  “Nice area,” Nick commented. “I can see why you and your sister decided to keep the house even with all the work it needs.”

  “There is an exuberance for life here I’ve never found anywhere else. The inhabitants love their food, their music, their traditions, and take advantage of any reason to celebrate.”

  “Your mother obviously didn’t share your appreciation for New Orleans, since she never brought you and your sister back for a visit.”

  “She had issues.”

  “Related to her husband’s murder?”

  Jacinth hesitated, the nagging questions that had been on her mind all day causing her to tense. She seldom talked to anyone except Caitlyn about her mother’s New Orleans mania, but if she was going to ask for Nick’s help, she might as well level with him.

  “Anything I say would be based on conjecture. Mother refused to talk about the murder, her life here or about our father’s family. It was if she’d locked that part of her life up in a soundproof and airtight container and dropped it so deep in the Gulf it could never surface.”

  “And she never mentioned the murder?”

  “When we were very young, she told us our daddy had died in a fishing accident. It wasn’t until I was ten years old and badgering her with questions about my father and his family that she explained he’d been murdered.”

  “That was all she told you about it?”

  “That was it. I could see how even saying that much upset her, so both Caitlyn and I decided it best to let it go.”

  “Was she that way with other problems?”

  “On the contrary. She never backed down from anything or anyone, especially if it involved what she thought was best for Caitlyn and me. No one could have asked for a better mother.”

  “A tiger, huh?”

  “If it was called for. But she was also loving, fun and enthusiastic.”

  Nick grew quiet again and she withdrew into her own thoughts as they crossed Esplanade and took a side street into the densely populated Faubourg Marigny neighborhood.

  Another turn landed them on Frenchmen Street. Music drifted from a small jazz club on the next corner. Patrons spilled onto the sidewalk, drinks in the familiar to-go cups in hand.

  Nick stopped at the edge of a cluster of college-aged partiers and slipped his arm around Jacinth’s waist. “Would you like to stop and have a drink?”

  “The two glasses of wine I drank at your place were more than enough for me. If you’d like one, I’ll go in with you. The music sounds good.”

  “I can do without it.” He pulled her close. “You’re about as intoxicating as I can handle, Jacinth Villaré.”

  He swayed to the rhythm, his hard body pressing against hers. Her stomach quivered as she gave in to the thrill of the moment. Who knew dancing in the moonlight could be so deliciously erotic?

  “Hey there, hottie.” The blaring, slurred voice shattered the mood.

  Jacinth looked up just as someone fell hard against her, his elbow jabbing her just above her right ear. His drink spilled down the front of her blouse as he grabbed hold of her shoulder.

  Nick simultaneously steadied her and caught the man in a stranglehold. His flexed muscles pressed against the sleeves of his shirt. His expression in the shadowed caverns of light escaping the bar was so intense it frightened Jacinth.

  “I’m okay, Nick,” she insisted. “It was just an accident.”

  “Getcha hands off me,” the man slurred. “I’s just want my turn dancin’ with the chick.” Spittle or maybe whiskey dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  Nick exhaled slowly and loosed the stranglehold, replacing it with a hand tightly clasped around the intoxicated man’s arm. “You’re drunk and you almost knocked the lady’s head off.”

  An older man exited the bar, saw what was going on and rushed over. He wrapped an arm around the drunk’s shoulders but locked gazes with Nick. “Is Seth giving you trouble?”

  “Ask her.” Nick nodded toward Jacinth. “She’s the one who got hit in the head and soaked in his whiskey.”

  “I’m okay,” Jacinth repeated. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry,” the older guy said. “Seth gets a little rambunctious when he’s under the influence. I didn’t mean to let him go off on his own. He walked out while I was paying for drinks.”

  “You need to get him home,” Nick said.

  “Yeah. I will.” He led the staggering Seth away.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Nick asked.

  “I’m sure, though I may smell like a brewery.” And she was still stunned by Nick’s razor-sharp defense instincts and not certain if she should feel protected or apprehensive.

  “Where did you pick that up?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You had poor Seth in your vise grip before I even fully grasped the situation.”

  “Training. I was an undercover agent with the CIA for a few years. I infiltrated a cell of terrorists. One mistake with them and they make death seem like a luxury.”

  That explained the killer reflexes. “A nice line of work to be out of.”

  “I thought so—after I almost wound up as fish bait in the bottom of a muddy river. Besides, I wasn’t much use to the CIA once I’d been identified.”

  That seemed the perfect lead-in for her purposes. “I’d like to hire you, Nick.”

  “To fix your pipes or to protect you from clumsy, aggressive drunks?”

  “As a private investigator. I’d like to find out as much as I can about my grandmother.”

  “Don’t you think Ron Greene will do that for you?”

  “He might, but that doesn’t mean he’ll share it with me.”

  “Good point.”

  “It’s a business arrangement, Nick. I’ll pay you. Maybe not all at once—I’m a little short on cash at the moment—but I’ll get the money.”

  “If this is because you think Marie Villaré was connected to the murder of the decapitated woman, you’re probably way off base.”

  “My curiosity didn’t stem from that, but the mutilation does add urgency to learning about my father’s family and what Caitlyn and I have moved into.”

  The interest stemmed from the secrets that had shaped Jacinth’s past. Secrets that seemed alternately terrifying and mesmerizing. Secrets that had driven her mother to leave New Orleans and never speak of it again.

  “Then exactly what is it you think I’ll find with this investigation?” Nick asked.

  “Who my father really was and what kind of family he’d come from. I’d like to know about my father’s stepbrother whom I didn’t know existed until today.”

  “And what if I find out he was a sorry son of a bitch who probably got what he deserved? Are you going to want to kill the messenger?”

  “I can handle the truth. I’m thinking you could start by talking to Carrie Marks, if you can find her.”

  “Most people are fairly easy to locate unless they don’t want to be found.”

  “I wouldn’t think Carrie’s in hiding if she visited Marie at home.”

  “Carrie’s an ex-girlfriend and exes are never reliable character witnesses. Depending on her relationship with Luther, she’ll either give you a glowing report on him or tell you he’s a scumbag.”

  “I’ll weigh her opinions with others. I’d also like to know how she felt about my grandmother, Marie Villaré.”

  “Sounds easy enough. I’ll get on it.
”

  “Here’s the catch, Nick.”

  “You want it by yesterday.”

  “I want to be directly involved in your investigation. Once you locate Carrie, I want to be there when you question her.”

  “Sounds as if you’re looking for a facilitator, not a private investigator.”

  “You’ll be doing the investigating. I’ll be observing and assessing.”

  “Observing and assessing sound like terms that came right out of one of your lectures.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Like it or not, any investigation of your family now starts off with a mutilated body. Word will get out that you discovered evidence of a likely murder. You start poking around in the wrong places and the killer’s not going to like it.”

  “I won’t be poking. I just want to talk to a few people who knew my father’s family.”

  Nick exhaled slowly and then reached for her hand. “Okay, we’ll try it your way at first. If I sense you’re in any kind of danger, the agreement’s off. And I need to caution you like I do all my clients.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m not saying this will be the case in this instance, but sometimes the truth is the last thing you want to hear.”

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  Neither of them spoke again until they climbed the steps to her house. She considered inviting Nick in for a nightcap, but decided against it. The internal fire that had ignited when he’d pressed his body against hers still smoldered. Best not to fan the flames.

  She slipped her key into her lock. “Thanks again,” she murmured, “for the rescue last night, the repaired pipe and the steaks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He pressed his right hand against the door frame and leaned in closer. She struggled for breath and some mental clarity. “I’ll write you a check tomorrow—for the pipe and an initial payment so that you can get started with the investigation.”

  “Then you’d be screwing around with my hang-up. I never lend or take money from friends.”

  “We’ve just met, Nick. I like you, but we’re barely acquaintances. We’re definitely not friends.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  His lips were mere inches from hers. She knew he was going to kiss her, knew she should turn and retreat inside the house before it went that far. Instead, she rose to her tiptoes and met his lips head-on.

  Desire rocked through her and she opened her mouth, meeting the thrust of his tongue, as her body arched toward him. The kiss deepened and the last remnants of inhibition vanished.

  When Nick pulled away, her equilibrium was so off-kilter, she could barely keep her balance.

  His finger trailed her cheek and he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Lock your door and call if you need me.”

  She nodded, not sure she could speak. She needed him now, but not for protection.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and backed away from the door. “I’ll call you when I have something to report about Carrie.”

  Back to business, only she was still reeling from the kiss. She nodded again and then managed a shaky good-night before turning away and stepping inside.

  Her mind was whirring with sensuous thoughts of Nick as she climbed the winding staircase, but by the time she reached the second floor, reality had pushed its way into her brain.

  Reacting with that kind of passion to a man she’d only met yesterday wasn’t wise. Hadn’t she cautioned Caitlyn with that same advice when she fell so hard and so fast for Marcus?

  Okay, so it had worked for Caitlyn. But that didn’t mean Jacinth could defy the odds.

  Nonetheless, memories of dancing with Nick delivered a disturbing flush of warmth as she washed her face, brushed her teeth and slipped into a pair of flowered, cotton pajamas.

  Jacinth looked for Sin and found her curled up asleep near the door to the second-floor veranda. Moonbeams filtered through the French doors, dappling Sin and the walls with silver sequins.

  Jacinth opened the door and stepped outside for one last look at the full moon. Perhaps she should blame her overactive hormones on that.

  Pulling her hair up and off her neck, she let the wind cool her skin and hopefully tamp down the flickers of desire that still haunted her.

  As she turned to go back inside, she spotted a man from the periphery of her vision. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree in front of her neighbors’ B and B, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Most likely a paying guest. Ernest and Henry provided lodging in their historic home but didn’t allow smoking.

  She couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but his stare was obviously focused in her direction. He put a hand up as if to acknowledge that they were watching each other and then started walking toward her house.

  Apprehension prickled her skin, leftover paranoia from last night’s incident with the collapsed wall. A minute later, the man snuffed out his smoke with the toe of his shoe and picked up his pace. He walked past her house without looking her way again.

  Jacinth went back inside, carefully locking the door behind her. She needed sleep. Peaceful sleep with no nightmares of falling heads or dangerous strangers. And no lustful dreams of Nick.

  JACINTH WOKE ON SUNDAY morning to a world shrouded in thick, gray fog and a cold, misty rain. She was quickly learning that drastic and sometimes violent weather changes were the hallmark of a Louisiana autumn.

  Somber was an appropriate backdrop for tackling the massive and depressing cleanup job in the guest bathroom. Not that she could repair the walls by herself, but she could at least clean up the disgusting debris.

  Before she started on that, she needed her caffeine fix and Sin was likely already in the kitchen, impatiently waiting on breakfast. There was also the matter of broken glass in Marie’s bedroom. She was yet to clean that up from yesterday.

  Jacinth unfurled herself from bed and slid her bare feet into her slippers. Her gaze unwittingly slid to the window that overlooked the Findleys’ carriage house.

  Impulsively she touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. If Nick were as good at investigating as he was at kissing, she’d soon know everything about the Villarés.

  Nick’s truck was parked in the driveway. The temptation to invite him over for morning coffee skittered through her mind. She promptly rejected the idea before her libido could chime in.

  Twenty minutes later, her second mug of sweetened coffee in hand and dressed in her favorite faded work jeans, Jacinth stepped into her grandmother’s bedroom. The dark mahogany furniture paired with the thick crimson drapes made the room seem dark and desolate.

  Evidently, Marie had liked it that way. The entire house had been dark and dreary when Caitlyn and she had moved in. They’d replaced the heavy drapes in almost every room and put splashes of color everywhere.

  Jacinth picked up the largest piece of the broken vase, careful to avoid the splintered edges. As she dropped it into the heavy plastic trash bag, she noticed an inscription on what had been the bottom of the vase. Gingerly, she recovered the jagged glass from the bag and turned it over.

  Happy Birthday, Mommy.

  Love, Micah

  Jacinth dropped to the side of the four-poster bed, so excited and moved that her hands were shaking. The father she couldn’t even remember had held this vase when he was just a boy growing up in this sprawling mansion. It had been a gift to his mommy—given with love.

  Jacinth laid the engraved fragment aside and continued removing shards of glass from the worn Persian rug. When that was finished, she walked to the bookcase and scanned the shelves.

  As many times as she’d walked by that vase, she’d never noticed the inscription until it was broken. She may have overlooked other treasures as well.

  One shelf was filled with a matching collection of leather-bound copies of the classics. She picked up To Kill a Mockingbird and thumbed through it, looking for personal marks or notes in the margins. The pages were pristine.

  Next Ja
cinth chose one of the books that Sin had knocked askance during her lockup tangent. It was in the same type of leather binding as the one she’d just glanced through, but she didn’t recognize the title as a classic.

  She opened it to find a well-worn copy of a family Bible tucked inside the leather.

  Adrenaline surged as she flicked past pages until she found what she’d spent months searching for. A family tree, completely filled in and dating back to the mid-1800s.

  Handling the aging Bible with utmost care, Jacinth hurried back to her well-lit bedroom and settled in the rocker near the window. After the incident with the head and learning of the existence of a phantom stepson, she doubted anything she discovered from the family records would shock her.

  She was wrong.

  Chapter Five

  Nick spent the early hours of Sunday morning on the phone with a new client who was convinced that one of his employees was stealing from him. It was a small operation, twenty employees, five of them relatives of the owner. If Nick had to place a bet today, he’d wager the thief—if there was one—would turn out to be one of the relatives.

  Nick listened and interacted appropriately, but his real concern this morning was Jacinth and the way she was getting to him. His goal had been to spend time with her and pick her brain about what she’d learned from her mother about Micah’s murder. It had not been to get turned on by Jacinth.

  Falling for Jacinth would undermine the most important investigation of his life. Yet he was falling and falling hard.

  It wasn’t just the physical attraction, though that was dynamite. It was the way she talked, the way she smiled, the way she walked, the way she sipped her wine.

  Hell, it was everything about her.

  He felt this fierce need to protect her, but the one she needed protection from most was him. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. And that kiss last night had equaled the thrill of having sex with any other woman he’d ever been with. Pulling away and leaving her at the door had been downright painful.

  None of that changed what he had to do, but he couldn’t be lover and destroyer. He’d have to put the skids on any romantic involvement and keep this strictly platonic.