The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) (5 page)

“I think Dad may have known where she ended up, but if he did, he never mentioned it to me. I wasn’t interested in finding her. When a parent tosses you aside like that, you pretty much figure they don’t want you in their life anymore.”

“But she was your mother,” Julian asserted. “You must have at least wondered about her.”

She casually noted the few people milling around Magazine Street. “When I was twelve I decided it was time to stop wondering about her. I pretended she was dead. After a while, I came to believe that she actually was dead. It made it easier in a way. When a parent dies, they don’t choose to walk away, it just happens.” Her eyes returned to him. “How old were you when your parents died?”  

“A little younger than you.”

Jazzmyn wrapped her arms about her waist. “You’re not much older than me, Julian.”

“I’m a lot older than I look.”

She scoured the lines and curves of his face. “How much older?”

An edgy silence filled the air between them, but as Jazzmyn waited for his reply her fatigue got the better of her and an unexpected yawn escaped from her lips. She quickly covered her mouth and blushed.  

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, slightly embarrassed. “That one snuck up on me.”

“Come on. You’re exhausted.” Julian nodded to the car parked behind her. “Get in and I’ll drive you home.”

When Jazzmyn turned and inspected the car, her breath caught in her throat. On the curb next to her was a dark blue Maserati GranTurismo.

Jazzmyn looked from the car to Julian. “Wow. This is yours?”

He raised his dark eyebrows. “Why are you surprised?”

“Most men who hit on me say they are one thing, but usually turn out to be another.”

Julian clicked the remote on his key chain and the car’s headlights flashed. He then stepped over to the passenger door and opened it for her. “There is one peculiar trait you might find refreshing about me as opposed to those other men who ‘hit’ on you.”

She barely came up to the middle of his chest as she stood before him. “What trait is that?”

He leaned toward her. “I do not lie, Jazzmyn.”

Her toes began to tingle. “Every man lies, Julian.”

“Not me. Most men feel as if they have to make up for their shortcomings with a lie. I prefer to show a woman all of my faults as well as all of my assets, so she knows exactly what she is getting.”

“If I get into this car with you, Mr. Devereau, exactly what am I getting?”

He lowered his face closer to hers. “A chance at a life outside that restaurant of yours.”

As Jazzmyn examined his deep brown eyes, she suddenly longed for that chance with Julian. Her father had always told her “life sends us nudges, but it is up to us to change our direction.” For years she had been wondering when the direction of her life would change for the better, and as she took in Julian’s face hovering over hers, she realized that the moment she had been waiting for might have finally arrived.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Jazzmyn mumbled.

She slipped into the front seat of the car and waited for Julian to close her door.

“Play it cool,” she sighed as Julian walked around to the driver’s side of the car. “Don’t blow this, Jazz. Please don’t chase this one away.”

Chapter 5

Julian eased his dark blue Maserati into a spot in front of Jazzmyn’s Garden District home. As he turned off the car engine, he took in the four round columns and long, luxurious balconies of the majestic structure. The look on Julian’s face reminded Jazzmyn of soldiers returning home from Iraq after an extended tour of duty. He appeared overcome by his emotions, but also fearful of what he saw looming ahead of him.

“Nothing has changed,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?”

He motioned to her antebellum home. “I can’t believe the Livaudais House is still standing.”

She wrinkled her brow at him. “Why do you call it the Livaudais House? It’s never been called that.”

“Yes, it was, many years ago.” He glanced over at her. “This was the home the Livaudais family built after they sold their plantation to the city of Lafayette. The land was later annexed by the city of New Orleans and turned into the Garden District. This home is said to rest on the original Livaudais Plantation ruins.”

“How do you know that?” Jazzmyn asked, surprised by his disclosure.   

“New Orleans history is something of a hobby of mine. I’ve always been fascinated by the changes the city has endured throughout its development.” He leaned back slightly in his car seat. “Perhaps it’s because I’m from here and have seen so much of the city evolve and, after Katrina, ebb away. It’s one of the most unique places I know, and no matter where my travels take me, I always end up coming home.”

Jazzmyn noted how his features softened slightly as he talked of his hometown. The admiration that filled his eyes touched her.

“The house was left to me by my father. It has been in his family since the time you just spoke of.”

He raised his eyes to the rearview mirror. “The Livaudais family was once very powerful in New Orleans. Their influence was said to have swayed many important men. I have also read that their social standing in the city guaranteed anyone marrying into their family a great deal of political clout.”

Jazzmyn frowned, questioning his keen interest in her family history. “It’s strange how you seem to know more about my family than I do. All I’ve ever learned about my ancestors was what my father told me, or from the old paintings of relatives scattered throughout the house.”

“It has to be a burden to keep up. I know you must do well at the restaurant to support yourself, but this place….” He turned to his driver’s side window and looked up at the large house. “It must cost a small fortune to maintain.”

Jazzmyn nodded. “It eats up everything I make and then some. After my father died, he left me a pretty sizable insurance settlement in his estate. I’ve used almost all of that money to repair the leaky roof, shore up the sinking foundation, rewire all the bedrooms, and update the bathrooms. With the downturn in the economy the restaurant isn’t making what it used to, and I’ve had to put off doing more work to the house. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to the place.”

Julian sat in silence for a moment as he studied the delicate features on her round face. “Is that why you work so hard at the restaurant, to keep this house?”

A pang of discomfort trickled through Jazzmyn. The intrusive question hit a little too close for her. She found it more than a little disconcerting how Julian seemed to know her thoughts.

Jazzmyn reached for her door handle. “I should get going.”

Julian placed his hand on her shoulder, halting her hasty departure. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried like that.”

The warmth of his touch made Jazzmyn melt. It had been so long since she had felt that way about a man. She wanted to open up to him, to share the burdens of her life with someone, but her past mistakes with the opposite sex still haunted her.

“Look, Julian, I’m not really good at the whole relationship thing. I work seven days a week, and any guy who has come into my life has never stayed long. I appreciate your interest, but do you really want to get involved with a woman like me?”

Julian smiled as she fidgeted in her seat. “Is that your usual tactic to scare men away, or do you use emotional outbursts and erratic behavior to send suitors running for the door?”

Jazzmyn wanted to come back with a pithy reply, but her body was numb and her mind was clouded over with fatigue. “I’m really not worth all of this effort, Julian. Perhaps you should start hanging out at a new restaurant so you can find a woman who doesn’t have a trunk load of baggage to deal with.”

“What makes you think I want a woman like that?” Julian caught a tendril of soft brown hair that had fallen from her ponytail. He pushed the hair away from her eyes and then let his fingers trace the line of her jaw until they came to rest just beneath her chin. The gentle touch of his hand almost made Jazzmyn crumble into her car seat.

Julian let his hand fall away from her chin. “I know what I’m getting into with you, Jazzmyn, and I’m never running away, no matter how much baggage you have in that trunk of yours.” He eased back and raised his head to the rearview mirror. “And I have a feeling your friend, the chef, is in it for the long haul, as well.” He nodded to the rearview mirror. “He’s been parked a few cars behind us for a while. I noticed a car following us from the restaurant, and I assumed it was him.”

Jazzmyn sat up in her seat and eagerly scanned the street outside. “Kyle? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Julian replied with a smug grin.

Jazzmyn spotted Kyle’s blue Toyota pickup parked three cars back. “That son of a bitch,” she cursed as she grabbed for the door handle.

But Julian reached for her hand. “Wait,” he urged as he kept her from jumping out of the car. “I suggest you just ignore him. Confronting him will only lead to an argument, lots of shouting, and eventually a visit from the police. A man like Kyle should never be confronted with anger. Why don’t you speak to him in the morning when you are not misguided by frustration and fatigue?”

Jazzmyn was a little amazed by Julian’s cool practicality. In her experience men readily embraced confrontation, eagerly accepting any challenge that allowed them to assert their manhood.

“Why aren’t you looking for a fight like other guys would be in this situation?”

Julian let go of her hand and sat back in his seat. “Perhaps I’m not like ‘other guys.’ I’ve experienced a lot more of life and human emotions to know that airing on the side of restraint is better than coming to blows with anyone.”

Jazzmyn contemplated the depth of his eyes for a moment. “You’re a very unusual man, Julian Devereau.”

“I’m glad you noticed.” He turned and exited the car.

As Julian came around to her door, she observed the ease of his stride and the fluidity of his movements. There was no doubt that the body beneath his tailored gray suit was strong and well disciplined. For an instant, Jazzmyn wanted to explore that body. She wanted to run her hands across his wide chest and feel the firmness of his buttocks in her hands. A gush of warmth quickly spread through her and the car suddenly became uncomfortably stuffy.

A cool rush of air swirled around her when Julian opened her car door. Jazzmyn took his outstretched hand, eager to feel the touch of his skin once more. The moment their fingers met, that kick of electricity returned, and Jazzmyn stared at their united hands in amazement.

“I shall see you to your door.” He waved to the red-bricked walkway that led to her home.

“No, that’s all right.” She reluctantly let go of Julian’s hand. “We have an audience, and I don’t want to provoke him further.”

Julian nodded his understanding. “When can I see you again?” he softly asked.

“Next time you come to the restaurant we—”

“Away from the restaurant,” he interrupted. “I want to take you out on a date. To spend some time with you where there are no interruptions, no hungry customers, and no….” He looked to Kyle’s truck. “Overprotective chefs.”

“I work every day, and when I’m not at the restaurant there is….” Julian’s cool eyes silenced her protests. Jazzmyn swallowed her reluctance and said, “Sundays are our slowest day. Perhaps I could take off during the day.”

Julian slowly smiled. “I’ll pick you up Sunday around ten. We can go to the French Quarter, have lunch, and I can show you some of my favorite spots in the city.”

Jazzmyn’s heart began to beat a little faster at the prospect of spending a day alone with such an engaging man.

“All right. Sunday it is,” she affirmed.

Julian directed his eyes once more to Kyle’s truck. “Perhaps you should go inside, before he comes over here and wants to beat the living hell out of me.”

Jazzmyn gave Julian one last nervous smile and then turned for the walkway to her home. She moved quickly to her double front doors, wanting desperately to gaze back at Julian, and at the same time dreading the possibility of seeing Kyle’s truck parked by the curb. When she reached her doors and pulled out her keys from her purse, she gave into her curiosity and glanced back at Julian.

He was leaning against his car, his arms folded over his broad chest, intently observing her. Jazzmyn instantly felt safe and protected knowing he was there. Not since she had been a little girl in her father’s arms had she known such a sensation. Never would she have guessed that the likes of Julian Devereau would evoke such a sentiment in her. Then, she remembered how she had momentarily lusted after his body as she watched him walk around the car to her door. That was another emotion that had surprised her. As she opened the front doors to her home, she became more excited about her coming date with the handsome man. Perhaps the winds of change had finally begun to blow her way. Maybe Julian Devereau was what she had been waiting for all along.

Chapter 6

The following morning, Jazzmyn sat on her third floor balcony, drinking her coffee and viewing a group of storm clouds gathering over the tops of the lofty oaks in her front gardens. She turned her head to the side to see Mr. JP curled up on the floorboards not far from her old white rocker, snoozing away the early morning.

“Must be nice to sleep in,” she commented to the cat. “I wish I could do that.”

Mr. JP thumped his tail against the floorboards but never opened his eyes.

Jazzmyn envied the cat’s ability to shut out all distractions and enjoy his siesta. A stray that had hung around the back door of her restaurant, the gray tabby had come into Jazzmyn’s life soon after her father had died. After feeding him scraps for weeks, she finally decided to bring him home for good. She had initially feared the animal might be lonely in the big house all day with her away at the restaurant. But when Mr. JP began leaving presents of dead mice around the place, Jazzmyn knew he had found a way to amuse himself, and, in the process, help control the rodent problem that had been plaguing the old home as long as she could remember.

As Jazzmyn sipped from her coffee mug, she anxiously listened for the sound of Kyle’s truck. She had watched from her bedroom window the night before as his blue Toyota pickup had sped away down the street soon after Julian had left. Jazzmyn dreaded the eventual lecture she was sure to get from him about Julian, but she also wanted to tell him of her plans for the coming Sunday. Despite being her chef and a general pain in the ass over the years, Kyle was also her friend. She could not recall a time since he had come into her life when she had not shared all of her hopes, dreams, and disappointments with him. Now that the prospect of romance had entered her life, Jazzmyn wanted more than ever to talk about it with her best friend. But she knew in this instance her best friend would not want to hear about her feelings for Julian Devereau.

As the minutes ticked by, an uncomfortable realization hit her; Kyle was not coming. Almost every day for the past three years he had been waiting on the porch downstairs to walk her to the restaurant. The prospect of having to make that journey alone saturated her heart with equal amounts of disappointment and anger.

“Self-centered son of a bitch,” Jazzmyn cursed into her coffee mug. “If he thinks he can….” She grew quiet as his rugged good looks and cool blue eyes flashed across her mind.

Jazzmyn’s thoughts quickly returned to the night they had shared together. It had started out innocently enough. Kyle had walked her home, and just as they had reached her front doorstep a light winter drizzle had begun to fall. Jazzmyn had invited him in until the rain passed. Kyle had started a fire in her huge living room fireplace, and she had opened a bottle of wine at his suggestion, to chase away the chill in the air. One bottle of wine had led to two shots of tequila, and then the kiss.

Jazzmyn closed her eyes and sighed at the memory of that kiss. It had been unexpected, and yet desperately wanted. She wasn’t sure if it was the atmosphere in the room with the fire, the nearness of his body, or just the alcohol in her system, but that night she had wanted him to kiss her. Jazzmyn had been fighting off a case of the giggles—too much wine always made her giggle—when Kyle was helping her off the sofa to go in search of more firewood out back. As he had pulled her up from the sofa, the effect of the wine and his forceful tug had sent her hurtling into his arms. She had grabbed a hold of him to keep from falling, and he had quickly wrapped his arms about her…and that was when it happened. Jazzmyn remembered how soft his lips had been, how strong his arms suddenly became around her body. One kiss had led to another, and before she knew it she was pulling his T-shirt over his head as he was kissing the tender flesh at the nape of her neck.

Jazzmyn sat in her rocker and tried to recapture the memory of their naked bodies intertwined on the floor in front of her fireplace; the way he had smelled, how he had moved inside her, and how she had screamed his name into the recesses of his chest when her orgasm erupted.

Jazzmyn cursed as she stood from her rocker and shooed the images of that night from her head.

“Enough! I’d better get to work,” she muttered as she stepped over a reclining Mr. JP and bounded toward the open balcony door.

***

“So, I hear you and the wino are an item,” Scott commented as he leaned against the doorway to Jazzmyn’s office later that morning.

Jazzmyn glanced up from the invoices she was sorting through on her desk. “Where did you hear that?”

Scott gave a deep chuckle as he eased his way into her office. “It’s a restaurant, Jazz. You can’t keep secrets in a restaurant. Hell, if the CIA recruited from the food service industry, they would have found Osama bin Laden years ago.”

“What member of our illustrious network of spies told you Julian and I are an item?” she asked as she sat back in her desk chair and glared at Scott.

“Lally overheard Nate telling Ms. Helen that Kyle followed the two of you to your house last night. Kyle is telling everyone that you were all over the guy.”

“That bastard!” Jazzmyn pounded her fist on top of the desk.

Scott laughed at her reaction. “I know I sent you home with the guy, but honestly, Jazz, I didn’t think you were the kind of girl to jump his bones before he even asked you out.”

“I didn’t jump his bones. We sat outside of my house in his car and talked. Just talked, Scott. You know me better than that.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know you better than that, Jazz. You’ve turned down more guys that any woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked at her. “So, what did you and the wino talk about?”

Jazzmyn rolled her dark green eyes. “Don’t call him that. Julian’s a real gentleman. We talked about my house, and he knew some of the history about the place, things I never heard before. He was interesting, and he—”

“Did he ask you out?” Scott hastily inquired.

“If you must know, yes. We made plans to see each other on Sunday.”

Scott turned the edges of his mouth downward. “Does Kyle know about your date?”

Jazzmyn shook her head and then slumped into her chair. “No, I haven’t told anyone about it, so don’t go spreading it around; all right, James Bond?”

“You better tell him. When you don’t come in on Sunday he’ll go marching over to your house to find you. You know how possessive he is of you.”

“I know. It has become more of a nuisance around here than I originally thought it would be. Last night he actually parked down the street from Julian’s car and spied on us…can you believe that?”

“The man is in love with you, Jazz. He’s always been in love with you, since he first started working here. I see how his eyes follow you across a room and how he hangs on your every word. When you two finally slept together a while back, I thought maybe you had fallen for him, too. Obviously, I was wrong.”

Jazzmyn’s stomach churned. “Does everyone in this restaurant know that we slept together?”

“Nah…the pizza joint next door and the Mexican restaurant down the street, they know you and Kyle slept together, as well. I told you, there are no secrets in this business.” Scott’s face sobered. “You need to tell Kyle about your date. You’ll hurt him more if you don’t tell him.”

Jazzmyn looked over the numerous invoices on her desk. “I was hoping not to say anything. I’ve been hiding in here all morning, wanting to avoid seeing Kyle.” She paused and ran her hands over her face. “I know if we see each other we’ll just start shouting and arguing about Julian.”

“How do you know? If a man can’t have the woman he loves, then he at least wants her to be happy…even if it isn’t with him.”

Jazzmyn skeptically eyed her bartender. “Where did you learn that? From what I remember of your numerous romantic liaisons, there wasn’t anyone special until Lynda.”

Scott grinned, making his eyes crinkle up. “There was you. I was always in love with you, kid. It was the fact that you were your father’s daughter that kept me from jumping your bones.”

“Very funny.” Jazzmyn waved off his comment with her hand.

“Talk to him, Jazz, sooner than later. Before he drains my bar of JD.”

Scott turned to go, and something he said resounded in her thoughts. “You don’t think Kyle is really in love with me, do you, Scott?”

Scott turned back to her. “Yes, I do. Once you’ve fallen in love, it’s easy to spot in another.”

She mulled over his words and then her thoughts strayed to Julian. “What do you think of Julian?”

Scott casually shrugged. “He’s well-spoken, pretty sharp, and is definitely interested in you.”

Jazzmyn waited for a beat for him to continue, but he didn’t. “But there is something else,” she surmised as she observed his serious face. “What?” she added.

A worried shadow crossed Scott’s handsome features. “He’s dangerous, Jazz,” he finally declared.

“Dangerous? You’re joking,” she scoffed, almost laughing.

Scott’s brooding countenance never wavered. “Yeah, Jazz, he’s dangerous. A man can sense it in another man. There’s something not right about him. So just be careful.”

Scott hastily departed the office, leaving Jazzmyn to consider his warning. After a few moments, Jazzmyn shook off his concern.

“Dangerous? How can a man like Julian Devereau be dangerous?”

The sound of dishes crashing to the floor startled Jazzmyn out of her chair. She decided Scott was wrong about Julian. He wasn’t the one she had to fear. Jazzmyn had a bigger mess to deal with.

As she came down the hallway toward the kitchen, Jazzmyn could hear Kyle’s raised voice tearing into one of the kitchen workers.

“Keep the goddamned plates to the left of the station and don’t pass them off to the warmer until I’m done. How many times do I have to tell you that, Carl?”

“You dropped the darn plate, Kyle, not me,” Carl argued.

When Jazzmyn entered the kitchen, she saw Carl and Kyle staring each other down and about two seconds away from coming to blows.

“Stop this!” she exclaimed, and then all eyes in the kitchen turned to her. “Kyle, I would like to speak with you.”

Kyle focused his cold blue eyes on her, grabbed a towel by the prep station, and quickly wiped his hands. Stepping over the small pile of dishes and food on the floor by his feet, he walked over to Jazzmyn.

“We’re in the middle of setting up for lunch, Jazz. You want to do this another time?”

She took a deep breath and knew that her resolve would not be any stronger than it was at that moment. “No. We need to do this right now.”

Kyle threw the towel in his hands over his right shoulder. “Fine, you’re the boss.” He waved ahead to the narrow hallway across from them.

Jazzmyn headed back to her office with Kyle following close behind. Once they were safely behind her closed office door, she went to her desk chair and sat down. She began counting to ten before she spoke, hoping to get control over her emotions.

“Kyle, these outbursts are getting too frequent to ignore,” she calmly began.

“Screw that,” he growled. “Let’s talk about the real issue here; you and that asshole last night. I can’t believe you just got in a car with a total stranger and let him drive you home, Jazz. Didn’t you hear about that girl in Mid-City? That could have been you.”

“What girl in Mid-City?”

Kyle looked down at his hands. “Some woman they found in a house on Banks Street. The paper said she had been dead for about a month. Her body was ripped apart, mutilated beyond recognition.” He raised his eyes to her. “Don’t you see how stupid it was to just go off with that wino?”   

She stood from her chair. “No more stupid than the idiot who followed us and sat in his truck outside of my house spying on me,” she countered, raising her voice.

“I wasn’t spying! I was protecting you. God knows what that guy would have done to you.”

“For Christ’s sake, Kyle, leave Julian out of this.” She paused and once again tried to collect her thoughts. “These temper tantrums and the drinking; they have got to stop, Kyle. I need you to focus on your job here. There may be times when I will have to be away from the restaurant, and I have to trust you to be able to handle yourself.”

“What are you talking about? You’re never away from the restaurant.” He paused and his blue eyes took in her face. “He asked you out, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “I will be seeing Julian Sunday, and I need you to make sure—”

“I can’t believe this!” Kyle shouted. “The guy wanders in here, buys some expensive wine, flirts with you, and now you are ready to jump into bed with him.”

“I’m not going to jump into bed with him! It’s a date, Kyle, and it’s a chance for me to start having a life away from the restaurant.”

Kyle stared at her; the hurt in his eyes was painfully evident to Jazzmyn. “I thought you loved it here. You always said this was your family.”

“It is, Kyle, but I need to get away for a little while. Get back out in the world, out into the dating scene again.” She shook her head. “Do you know I haven’t had a date since…I can’t remember when.”

“The UPS guy, three years ago. His name was Doug and you liked his legs,” Kyle told her.

Jazzmyn ran her hand across her forehead. “Yeah, Doug. I forgot about him.” She motioned to Kyle. “Well, we both know you haven’t been exactly celibate all of these years. I can’t remember how many pretty girlfriends you’ve had flitting in and out of the kitchen.”