Cajun Spice (5 page)

So what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t back away from her, and now he wanted to protect her in case she got splattered with some of the mud. Maybe he could get through this stay in New Orleans, solidify the relationship—which god knew he wanted almost more than his next breath—and pray that someone else on the team found where Myers had hidden the money and grabbed him up.

As he stood there, hitting his mental punching bag, his cell rang. He picked it up from the vanity and looked at the readout. Larry. Of course. Wanting an update. With a decided lack of enthusiasm, he answered it.

“Yeah, boss.”

“How’s it going?” Larry Choate asked.

Marc chose his words carefully. “Larry, I have to tell you, I don’t think she’s dialed into this.”

Larry snorted. “Getting taken in by a pretty face, are you? I thought you were way past that. You’ve always been my ace-in-the-hole ladies man and worked it successfully when we needed it.”

Yes, but those women meant nothing to him. They hadn’t slammed him right in the solar plexus the way Daisy Karr did. Gotten under his skin. Into his blood. His heart.

Heart? Already, you jerk?

“You there, Marc?” Larry’s voice broke into his conversation with himself, the tone sharp and edgy.

“Yeah, sorry. And no, I’m not being taken in by anything.” He rubbed his hand across the scruff on his jaw. “You said you trust my instincts. Well, they tell me she hasn’t got a thing to do with this. None of the clues are there, and I don’t get the vibes.”

“I do trust your instincts. They’re good, always have been. However, I’m not ready to write her off yet. Keep at it. Hang onto her. Watch for the clues. You know what I mean.”

Yes, he did, and this time he wanted to tell Larry Choate to go to hell. However, since that wasn’t possible he’d just have to continue to play the game and hope to hell it got wrapped up soon and Daisy would never have to know what his part was supposed to be.

“Yeah, I do. I’m spending the day with her, so I’ll give you a call tonight or tomorrow.” He paused. “And if you hear anything at all in the meantime, ding me right away.”

“Will do.”

He hung up, set the phone back down, and looked at himself again. You’re hooked, Doucet, he told himself. Face it. Figure out how to get through this and hope Daisy never finds out what your assignment is. That said, he turned on the shower and stripped off yesterday’s clothes. He had a breakfast to get to.

*****

Daisy brushed her hair until it shone and checked her makeup three times, wondering why at thirty-five she was so nervous about having breakfast with a man. It certainly wasn’t the first time. Maybe because Marc Doucet wasn’t like any other man she’d ever been with. He was certainly a thousand miles from Craig.

She couldn’t chalk it up to sex, either, although she didn’t ever remember a man who rocked her boat the way Marc Doucet did. Lordy, he was an incredible lover. Her body still hummed with the aftereffects of all the things they’d done, at how he’d removed all of her inhibitions one by one. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the springy curls on his hard chest, the heat of his body against hers, his arms sculpted with hard muscle holding her. Feel his thick, swollen cock filling her completely and the intense, unbelievable orgasms she’d shared with him. For the first time in her memory, a man paid attention to
her
needs,
her
desires. A little shiver skated over her as scene after scene flashed through her mind.

Remember, this is nothing but an interlude. You wanted to have fun at Mardi Gras, find a sexy guy, and wipe Craig out of your mind the way Jocelyn told you to.

Craig who? She asked herself the question, and her mouth curved in a little smile. But yes, she’d do well to keep it in mind that this was temporary. A fling, or whatever she wanted to call it. Something to get her past the current disaster of her life.

Still….

Forget it. Go with today and forget about tomorrow.

The past two mornings they’d had breakfast on the balcony of her room, watching the activity on the street below as the French Quarter woke up for another day of Mardi Gras. This morning, though, he was taking her to Cafe du Monde for café au lait and beignets. She could soak up the ambience of Jackson Square and maybe wander through the marketplace afterwards. When the knock came at the door, she took a final look at herself in the mirror and went to let Marc in.

He grinned at her, dimples flashing, and pulled her into his arms for a hard, hot kiss. When he lifted his head, she saw the hunger still flickering in his eyes.

“You taste as good in the morning as you do at night.” As if to punctuate his words, he brushed his lips over hers again. “Yup. Damn good.” Then he released her. “Okay, sugar. Let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

On the walk to Jackson Square from the hotel, he kept his fingers linked with hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze now and then. The warm, secure contact wiped away the turmoil that had gripped her when she’d discovered Craig’s duplicity. Too bad this was nothing but a brief interlude in her life, because she could certainly use a good long dose of this spicy Cajun man.

“You never said if you lived in New Orleans or somewhere near the city,” she reminded him.

“We lived in the city,” he told her, “but we had lots of relatives in places like Kenner and Thibodaux and New Iberia. Some even in tiny bayou towns too small to be on the map.”

“It must have been great growing up here.”

He laughed, a rich, full sound. “There’s good and bad,
chere.
My cousins and I got into all kinds of trouble. Gave our parents a bunch of fits till we grew up.”

She loved the colorful stories he told, the tales of Mardi Gras as well as nights in the bayou and “swampin’,” as he called it. She couldn’t help but be fascinated. And he was an unending source of information about the city, letting her see it through his eyes.

“So tell me, Miss Daisy Karr,” he began as they sat with their beignets and cups of café au lait, “what do you do in the real world?”

She chewed a small bite of the warm, doughy, sugary treat and tried to figure out how to make her work sound less than boring. Usually when she said she was an accountant, she could almost see the
Boring
sign flash in their eyes. Numbers to her had always been sexy, fascinating, their uses so myriad she never got bored with her job. Running the numbers for the accounts at the investment firm had been continuously intriguing. Of course, getting fired had not. Now, tainted by the same brush as Craig the louse, she wondered what her options would even be.

So, how should she answer him?

“Daisy?” Marc prompted. He chuckled. “I didn’t think that was such a hard question.”

She sipped her café au lait. “What I do isn’t very exciting.” She set her cup down carefully. “I’m a bookkeeper. That’s all. Nothing special.”

Well, either that would chase him away or not. Surely a man like him could get all the glamorous women he wanted.

He reached across the table and cupped her chin. “You’d make anything glamorous.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, catching a smear of powdered sugar and licking it with a slow swipe of his tongue. “Delicious.” His eyes darkened. “And I don’t mean just the beignet. Also, I happen to have a thing for bookkeepers.”

She laughed. “You’re teasing me. Either that or you’re nuts.”

“Not at all. I happen to find bookkeepers very sexy.” He winked. “So, what kind of bookkeeping do you do?”

Daisy stalled again, slowly chewing another bite of the mouthwatering hot pastry. Should she tell him? She was sure the story was all over the place by now. Her boss had already been fielding calls from reporters when she left his office. No. She had come here to get away from that mess.

“I do account reconciliations and projections.” There. That was pretty innocuous. “Like I said, pretty boring.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Marc studied her as he swallowed a mouthful of his own beignet. “So, where do you do this so-called boring work.”

Busted
.

“I, um, am between jobs at the moment.” She sipped from her cup again. “Examining my options. I, um, have some offers on the table.”

Yeah. Find a place to live because the condo payment is due in two weeks. And look for a job where they don’t care I’ve been disgraced by someone else’s actions.

He cocked an eyebrow? “Looking to make a change, are you?”

Daisy looked at Marc quizzically. Was he making idle conversation, or did he have a deeper interest? What would that be, anyway? They weren’t doing anything more than having fun for a few days, right? Maybe his feelings were beginning to run deeper, the way hers were.

Daisy, don’t give yourself a headache. Go with the flow.

She licked the powdered sugar from the corner of another beignet, bit off a small piece, and chewed while she decided how to answer. She actually had something in mind, but should she share it with a veritable stranger?

“I’ve actually thought about going into forensic accounting,” she said at last. “Do you know what that is? Most people either have a vague idea or none at all.”

His eyes narrowed, the reaction so slight she would have missed it if she wasn’t watching him carefully.

“I’ve heard of it. Any special reason for that interest?”

She shook her head. “Just something I’ve always been interested in. Do you have anything to do with it in your business? I mean, um, whatever your business is.”

“My company uses it sometimes in cases of suspected fraud.” The words were said in a casual tone, but he was watching her intently.

A tiny frisson of cold air skated over her skin. What was up with this, anyway?

“Really? What business is your company in?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture. “You could say we’re project managers.” Then he leaned forward and unleashed that lethal smile on her.

“Don’t you have a project here in New Orleans? When you said you had business here, I figured you’d have meetings and such. Is it okay that you’ve been taking so much time with me?”

“Don’t you worry, sugar. I’m taking care of business. Things are going well right now, and I’m right where I need to be.”

“I know you got a couple of texts this morning. Are you sure there isn’t some kind of meeting you have to attend?”

“No. For sure. Lookin’ to get rid of me, are you?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. But I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

“You’re not, believe me.” He cocked his head. “So, let me ask you another question. Not that it’s any of my business, but you haven’t heard from your fiancé since we landed. I can’t believe he’d let a beautiful woman like you wander around The Big Easy by herself.”

She looked down at her plate, running her finger around the rim. “He’s not exactly my fiancé,” she said at last. “Not anymore, that is. And maybe he never was. Maybe I only thought he was.”

“So, where is he now?”

She looked at him, her face suddenly sober. “Why all the questions?”

He lifted his shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance. “No special reason. I want to make sure he doesn’t show up and hassle you in any way.” He reached for one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she assured him. “He’s got…some problems that have nothing to do with me. Problems I have no intention of becoming involved in. So good riddance. I hope I’ve seen the last of him.” She managed a smile. “But thank you for thinking of me. Anyway, let’s not talk about him, okay?”

“Suits me just fine.” He swallowed the last of his coffee. “How about finishing up and we’ll go for a stroll through the park? There are some sidewalk musicians playing and some street artists you might be interested in.” He lifted her free hand and stroked her knuckles, then placed a light kiss on them. “Okay?”

Daisy nodded and finished the last of her beignet. All Marc had to do was touch her and she felt ready to burst into flames. But the flame was tamped down slightly now. He’d been as evasive about his work as she had, and what did that mean? Were neither of them what they seemed?

Forget it. Just have a good time. That’s what you’re here for, right?

How could she look beyond that, anyway, when her life was such a mess? She had no place to live and only a short time to find one. No job, and the prospects of another not looking good, not with her name smeared with the mud from Craig’s actions. She had good savings, but she couldn’t use them all up without any way to replenish them. What would Marc think if he knew the whole story? And would he want to wait until her life was back on track again?

She smiled at him, rose from her chair, and picked up her purse, sliding the thin strap onto her shoulder.

Marc took her hand again, folding it into his warm one, and brushed a kiss over her lips.

“Let’s forget about work and go have fun.” His eyes darkened to navy. “I’ve got some ideas for a different kind of fun later on, okay,
chere
?”

“Okay.” The shiver this time had nothing to do with uncertainty and everything to do with anticipation.

*****

Forensic accounting. Marc let the word roll around in his brain. Interesting choice for a woman whose boyfriend had embezzled millions of dollars. Was she choosing that career path so she could help him in the future, assuming he didn’t get picked up? Or because she was an innocent in all this and wanted to protect herself in the future? He had trouble believing that Daisy was involved in the actual fraud. He could possibly be wrong, but in the three intense days they’d spent together, he’d seen no signs of it. No one, he thought, could be that good an actress.

Deep inside, he prayed his instincts were correct because Daisy had embedded herself in his system. He didn’t want this to end when they returned to New York. Or ever, if he could manage that. He wanted to wake up next to her every morning and go to sleep with her in his arms every night.

But before they could get to that stage, get past Mardi Gras wildness, he had to be positive she wasn’t part of Craig Myers’ scheme and didn’t know where the money was.