Recovery (11 page)
Authors: Alexandrea Weis
“I am,” my father assured as he folded his arms across his chest, “but sometimes it takes the people closest to you to point out the areas in need of change.”
“Like your cold heart,” Dallas added, grinning.
I turned my nose up at Dallas. “Well, you’re the expert on cold hearts, Mr. August, considering yours is frozen solid.”
My father uncrossed his arms and laughed. “And to think I was worried you were actually interested in each other.”
Dallas looked over at me, the annoying grin still plastered on his face. “Oh, I’m interested, Bill. It’s just your daughter is a little more stubborn than I thought she would be.”
My father took his seat behind his desk and shook his head. “Stubborn? Boy, have you got a lot to learn.”
There was a knock on the door and the lovely Betty glided into the room and toward my father’s desk. I noticed how his eyes followed her as she moved.
“There’s a Mr. Reynolds here for you, Mr. Beauvoir.” She smiled sweetly. “Your three o’clock.”
My father’s eyes lingered on the woman’s face. “Thank you, Betty.”
We all watched as Betty gracefully stepped out of the room.
“Bill,” Dallas grinned at my father, “Nicci isn’t the only one in your family that’s stubborn.” Dallas walked over to me and grabbed my hand. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s leave your father to his work.”
The following day Dallas took me up on
my offer to show him the French Quarter.
“Why don’t we go down to the French Quarter today, sweet cheeks?” he suggested after he barged into my bedroom unannounced while I was working at my desk. “We need to be seen spending time together in public.”
“No, we don’t,” I argued without raising my eyes from my laptop.
“Yes, we do. We need to practice looking infatuated with each other for the New Year’s Eve party this weekend.”
I shook my head without looking up. “That will never be a possibility.”
“All right then,” he muttered as he grabbed my arm. He then yanked the laptop from me, practically flinging it down on my desk. He pulled me out of my chair and dragged me to the door. “I need to get the hell out of this house for a few hours. How does that sound?”
I wrestled free of his grip and raced back to my desk to switch off my laptop. When I turned around, he was standing at my bedroom door, watching me with his unsettling eyes.
I angrily marched back to him and reached for my purse sitting on a chair by the door. “Fine. But you’re paying for the parking, the food, and whatever else might strike my fancy.”
He smiled his sly smile, the one he seemed to share only with me. “Excellent, sweet cheeks. I’ll buy you a see-through negligee at some naughty shop on Bourbon Street.”
“You’re the most irritating…” I rushed through the door letting my words disappear with me.
I pulled into a parking lot next to the Jax Brewery shopping complex by the Mississippi River located across from Jackson Square in the heart of the French Quarter. The parking lots located at this end of the French Quarter were usually full throughout the year, but on that day, there were only a handful of cars in the lot.
I parked in a spot closest to the street and handed Dallas the ticket.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.
“Use your imagination,” I growled, turning for my car door.
He grabbed my hand and held it, keeping me from making a hasty retreat.
“Remember we are a loving couple, Nicci.” He let go of my hand. “So try to act the part and stop being such a pain in the ass.”
“Me?” I yelled as I rubbed my hand. “You are the one being the pain in the ass.” I glared at him, feeling a sudden surge of courage to broach a nagging question. “Why did you tell my father you were interested in me?”
He grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to mention that. I told your father that because I am interested in you. I’d like to get to know the woman hiding behind all of those principles.” He looked out of the window toward the riverfront. “I thought I was being completely transparent.”
I tried not to laugh. “I don’t think you have ever been transparent a day in your life.”
He turned back to me. “Perhaps I should have painted my intentions onto canvas for you,” he said, raising his voice.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You have been wrapped up in your feelings for David for so long, you’ve forgotten to let anyone else in. You’re going to have to start over again one day, Nicci. Why not today?” He leaned in closer. “Why not with me?”
“You!” I yelled. “I could never trust you.”
He gazed back out at the riverfront. “Maybe one day you’ll enlighten me about how David earned your precious trust.”
I sat back in my seat and weighed the necessity of telling him anymore about me than he already knew.
“I would think,” I began as I kept my eyes on him, “that someone like you would understand—”
“Someone like me?” he interrupted as he turned to me.
I sat in silence for a moment as I tried to find the words to express exactly how he made me feel.
“You are a cold man who cruelly teases people with hopeful glimpses of the genuine warmth you hide away, but like a groundhog afraid of his own shadow, you turn tail and run whenever you show your true nature to others. You don’t want anyone to see the real you because it hurts too damn much when you are betrayed by the ones you thought you trusted.”
He furrowed his dark brows together. “I’m confused. Are we talking about me or you now?”
“There you go again. You turn everything I say around and avoid any conversation that would allow anyone to get too close. That’s my point.”
“So you think you have me all figured out, do you?” His voice deepened with anger. “Don’t believe that a few days of playful teasing can give you any dramatic insights into my nature.” He reached for the door and opened it. “Stop analyzing me, Nicci. I’ll only let you see what I want you to see.” He stepped from the car. “And nothing more.” He slammed the door in front of me.
The French Quarter was the only section of the city spared significant damage from Katrina. Physical damage, that is. No one was prepared for the financial and emotional repercussions after the water had abated. The French Quarter looked nothing like its former hedonistic self. Gone were the multitudes of intoxicated revelers parading through the narrow streets covered in Mardi Gras beads and carrying go cups. Now only National Guard troops soberly patrolled the old-world alleyways, with the occasional resident, activist, or altruist mixed in.
“Looks quiet,” Dallas said as he spied an empty Decatur Street. “None of the shops are open.”
I gawked at him for a moment. “Really, Einstein. Who are the stores going to open for? There are no tourists here.”
He stared at me. “I know that. Why are you being so damn hostile?”
“Maybe I was enjoying working on my new book and then you barged into my bedroom, without knocking, I might add, dragged me from my desk, and wanted to come down here to look at empty streets and vacant buildings.”
“I know.” He took my hand and pulled me out of the parking lot. “You need a drink.” He stopped and examined the street signs. “How do we get to Bourbon Street? I bet somebody there is open.”
“Somebody there is always open.” I sighed and pointed up the block. “That way.”
He pulled me along until we came to Jackson Square. There he stopped to admire the intricately detailed wrought-iron rails on the balconies of the Pontalba Apartments and to take in the architecture of the Cabildo. He also paused in front of St. Louis Cathedral and gazed upward to the tall spires.
I stood by and watched him drinking in the old cathedral, wondering what he could have found so fascinating.
“What are you, an architectural historian today?” I asked.
“No. I’ve never been here before. Just admiring the beauty of the place.” He pointed at the cathedral. “David painted here, didn’t he?”
I nodded to an alley on the left of the cathedral. “Over there. Pirates Alley. The first time I saw his paintings was here.”
“And told him you didn’t think he had yet found the right subject to paint,” he added with a cocky grin.
I peered into the alley. “You and David shared a lot, didn’t you?”
“Like I said, he spoke about you constantly and I listened.”
I walked over to the front of the cathedral. “That must have gotten old. Listening to him go on and on about the girl he left behind?” I turned and waited for his reaction.
There was none. Instead, he just strolled past me and into the alley.
“Show me where you saw his paintings.”
“What, are you scouting movie locations?” I asked, following behind him. “Why do you need to see where I went with him? Where we spent our time together? What good will any of this do?”
He stopped ahead of me several feet into the alley and turned. His eyes were all over me, filled with what seemed like intense frustration.
“Do you want to catch David’s killer?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Of course I do!”
“Then don’t ever question my motives again!” he shouted. “Do you understand?”
“No!” I stomped my foot on the ground defiantly. “You are going to tell me your motives, you self-righteous ass, and you are going to tell me why any of this is necessary.”
He started laughing at me. “You are a little terror, aren’t you? You are going to have your way no matter what.”
“Well, I haven’t had my way with you yet.” I clamped my hand over my mouth, instantly regretting what I had just said.
He quickly moved toward me. “Is that what’s eating at you? You want your way with me?”
I shook my head and started to walk away, feeling my face begin to blush. “Stop twisting everything I say around. That’s not what I meant.”
But just as I came along side of him, he reached out for my arm and pulled me to him. “I know what you meant.” His face was inches from mine. “All I need to hear is three words, Nicci, and I’m yours.” He moved his lips closer to mine. “Repeat after me. I…want…you.”
“Let go of my arm.”
“That’s five words and definitely not what I had in mind.” He let my arm go and I stepped away from his side.
I immediately started down the alley toward the street. “Bourbon Street is this way,” I shouted over my shoulder.
He laughed behind me. “Yes. I think we could both do with a drink, sweet cheeks.”
We made our way down Royal Street, and I felt my heart skip a beat as we passed the little diner on the corner of St. Anne. It was a spot where David and I had spent some time together drinking coffee and talking. I smiled to myself as I remembered him carrying me out of the place over his shoulder because he wanted for us to go and have some fun, but I had been obstinate, as usual.
The diner was closed up now, as were most of the stores and restaurants in the French Quarter. I wanted to stop and peer through the eatery’s dirty windows and linger in my memories. But the piercing gaze of Dallas was right beside me.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, feeling I had shared enough of my past with him. “I just wanted to see if it was open. They had good coffee.”
“I need more than coffee right now, Nicci.” Dallas waved his hand down the street. “Lead on,” he ordered.
The first open bar on Bourbon Street was filled with an amusing mix of National Guard officers, police officers, and college students dressed in dust-covered jeans and grimy T-shirts.
Dallas walked into the barroom and found a table in the back. He pulled out a chair for me next to him, but I took a seat in the chair across the table from him.
He sat down and scowled at me. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asked. “Now that we have cleared the air about your intentions for me, we should be able to drink, relax, and have a good time.”
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back away from him. “Do my intentions involve the use of pliers and a blowtorch, because anything other than that is strictly your imagination.”
A round blond waitress dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the name of the establishment printed across her ample bosom came up to our table.
“No mixed fruit drinks, no daiquiris, no hurricanes, no cream or milk-based drinks, and no fancy liqueurs.” She sounded as if she had repeated the same sentence at least a hundred times. “We got beer, hard liquor, water, and soda.”
“Two vodka and sodas,” Dallas said to the waitress.
But I jumped in. “Do you have orange juice?”
The blond smiled at me. “Orange juice we got, sweetheart.”
“Make mine a screwdriver then.”
“Sure thing.” She paused. “By the way, it’s cash only. Credit card machines aren’t working yet.”
“No problem.” Dallas nodded to her and instantly the woman disappeared. He turned his attention to the other patrons in the bar. “Slow recovery,” he commented.
I looked around the place and shrugged. “I wouldn’t call this a recovery. It’s more like a cease-fire. Nature pulled back her elements and has allowed us time to try to regroup, but I don’t think any of us will ever recover.”
Dallas glanced over at me and took a deep breath. “It changes you, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
He grinned. “Survival.”
I nodded slightly. “Once you’ve been through something like this, I don’t think you can ever go back to the way you were. Always planning ahead, keeping up extra supplies, plotting out the worst case scenario over and over again. Living on the edge day in and day out.” I searched his face. “Has it always been that way for you?”
He rested his arms on the table. “In a way. You learn to live with that ever-present twinge of apprehension. You never can completely relax.”
I moved in closer to the table. “You were right, you know.”
The comment made him smile like a kid in a candy store. “Really, and what was I right about, sweet cheeks?”
“David was not at all like you. He never had your coldness.”
He dropped his smile and leaned back from the table. “That is because David never did what I do.”
I studied him as I rested my arms on the table. “Ah yes, you’re the precision instrument hired to get the job done, no matter the cost. And are you ever going to tell me what exactly it is you do?”
He looked down at the table. “Do you really need to hear this?”
“Yes.”
Dallas sat back in his chair and watched me for a moment or two before he spoke again. “I’m called in to extract information from people when all other measures have failed.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Satisfied?”
“No.” I paused. “Do you have a conscience, Mr. August?”
He appeared amused. “About what I do?”
“About whom you kill?”
The sly smile was wiped clean from his face. “What makes you think I kill people, Nicci?”
“What else would a precision instrument be used for?”
The waitress arrived with our drinks. Dallas took out a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her.
“Run a tab until this is used up.”
The girl’s green eyes lit up at the sight of the money. “Sure thing, hon!”
He took his drink and eagerly sipped it down. I watched as he swiftly drained his glass. I lifted my drink to my lips and smiled to myself. I had hit a nerve.
“I’m not a hit man,” he said when he finally put his empty glass down on the table. “I don’t kill people, Nicci. I told you I merely extract information by any means necessary.”
“Torture and maim?”
He waved to the waitress and lifted his glass, indicating he was ready for another. Then his eyes were back on me. He leaned toward me and cocked his head slightly to the right.
“You ask too many questions,” he growled.
“No, I’m asking the wrong questions, aren’t I?”
“Don’t push me, Nicci.” His voice was almost cruel.
“Now you see how it feels, Dallas.” I smiled at him, nursing my drink in my hands. “You’ve been pushing me since the moment we met. I figured it was about time I pushed back.”
He shook his head. “You were never like this with him, were you?”
His eyes suddenly made me feel very uncomfortable. “David was playful, not hurtful.”
“But he did hurt you?”
“I forgave—”
“Yes, you forgave him,” Dallas cut me off. He sat back again in his chair and glared at me. “But I’ll bet you’ll never let yourself forgive anyone else like that again, will you?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Perhaps you don’t want me close, is that it?”
I slammed my drink down on the table. “I don’t want you at all.”
Instantly he was in the chair next to me, holding both of my hands in his. His lips wavered temptingly in front of me.
“Now I know you’re lying, Nicci,” he mumbled and then he leaned over and kissed my cheek tenderly.
I could feel a spark ignite within me as his lips grazed my skin. I tried to pull away but his hands held me firmly in place.
“I know I do something to you, just like you do something to me.” His breath teased my earlobe. “You’ve been doing something to me since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“Hate to interrupt,” our waitress said as she put a drink down on the table in front of Dallas.
I took immediate advantage of his surprise to free myself and pull away.
“Do you want another screwdriver, sweetheart?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” I stated, trying to quell my unwanted desire. “Make it a double.”
It was New Year’s Eve and we were
getting ready for BeBe Comeaux’s party. My father, Uncle Lance, and Dallas were off in the other bedrooms putting on their tuxedos and preparing for the evening. I, on the other hand, was standing in front of my bathroom mirror trying to keep from having a nervous breakdown.
Ever since our excursion to the French Quarter, I had been having a difficult time being in the same room with Dallas. I had also become quite accident-prone. I was continually dropping whatever item I was holding whenever he spoke to me or running into furniture when he came into the room.
“What’s wrong with you?” my father had asked that morning when Dallas came into the kitchen after his run. I had spilled my cup of coffee all over the kitchen table as soon as he appeared in the doorway.
“I’m just edgy about the party, I guess,” I had told him as I ran to get some paper towels.
I noticed Dallas never commented about any of my missteps. He would just grin as he watched me bumbling about trying to clean up one mess or another.
I was also heading to the bar every chance I could get, trying to steady my nerves. Dallas, on the other hand, had stopped drinking. Though he would occasionally have a drink before dinner, gone were the three or four consecutive drinks in an evening that I had witnessed when we were together in New York.
“Better slow it down, kid,” Uncle Lance had recommended to me the night before BeBe’s party. I had just finished my third screwdriver. “You keep drinking like that and you’ll end up like me,” he added.
“Now there’s an incentive for sobriety,” I had said as I placed my empty glass in the sink behind the bar. “Shouldn’t you be going back to your condo or new girlfriend or something?” I had inquired, wondering why he had opted to stay on at the house after Christmas.
“Are you kidding!” he had cried out. “And miss any of the action? I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
I thought about my uncle’s warning as I stood before my bathroom mirror dressed in my strapless bra and panties. I desperately wanted a drink to settle my nerves before the party, but had decided against it. I needed my wits about me tonight.
As I applied my makeup, I kept wondering how the evening would transpire and hoped Dallas would get all the information he needed and head back to New York. I was daydreaming of the prospect of his departure when my bathroom door suddenly flew open, making me jab myself in the eye with the mascara wand.
I spun around to find Dallas standing at the entrance to my bathroom.
“Jesus!” I called out and grabbed for the robe to cover my partially naked body. “Do you ever knock?”
He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and leered at me while I quickly pulled on my robe.
“Don’t dress for me.”
“What do you want?” I asked, securely tying the robe about my waist.
He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo. The stainless steel watch gleamed against his wrist. He smelled of his spicy cologne and his dark blue eyes were seemingly lit from within.
My legs suddenly felt weak.
“I, ah, hope,” he pointed to his eye, “that you plan on doing a better job with your makeup. I need you to look breathtaking tonight.”
I turned back to the mirror and saw the large black raccoon-looking glob of mascara smeared underneath my eye. “Damn!” I cursed as I reached for some tissues to wipe away the mistake.
“Look, Nicci,” Dallas said behind me, “I know you’re nervous about tonight, but just stick close to my side and let me handle everything. I plan on provoking people tonight, and I am going to need you looking cool and confident, not tripping over yourself and dropping your drinks everywhere.”
I glanced back at him through the mirror. “Very funny.”
He smiled and was about to turn away when he stopped. “And wear that black beaded dress tonight. The one David painted you in. I want everyone at the party to remember you and David, together.”
After he left and I had redone my makeup, I pulled the dress from my closet and laid it out on my bed. It was an iconic symbol to me of David and of our time together. All the emotions he had stirred within me came back as I looked at the long, beaded, off-the-shoulder black gown. I remembered how he had held me in his arms and danced with me in this dress under the twinkling lights of Val’s party at the Botanical Gardens. And how we left the party early, eager to be alone. The way he drove his red Jeep, his dark, wavy hair flying about in the wind as we headed back to his cottage in Lakeview. How he had painted me in this dress and how he had kissed me. Sometimes I still found it hard to believe he was gone.
“Does it ever get easier?” I asked myself.
I put on the dress and zipped up the back. I stared at my reflection in the bedroom mirror and decided to leave my auburn hair down, as it had been that night at Val’s party. The outside of me was the same. The same oval face, the same figure, the same dress, but on the inside I was not the same.
“When this crap is over,” I mumbled as I examined the dress in the mirror, “I’m burning this damn thing.” I grabbed my black evening bag from the chair by the door and headed out of my room.
The men were gathered, waiting at the base of the stairs, when I walked out onto the landing.
“Darling, you look wonderful,” my father commented as I made my way down the steps.
Uncle Lance nodded to me. “Damn, girl, you look sensational.”
I smiled as I approached the trio. “I’m glad you decided to join us, Uncle Lance.”
“Are you kidding?” Uncle Lance laughed. “This is better than reality television. I’m going to watch this kid,” he said, pointing to Dallas, “work his magic.”
I turned to Dallas. “Do I pass inspection?”
He grinned at me. “Sweet cheeks, I couldn’t be happier.”
The Hilton was located behind the now famous Morial Convention Center along the city’s riverfront. BeBe Comeaux’s party was being held on the top floor of the Hilton in the Safari Room. When we stepped out from the elevators, a jungle-motif room overlooking the Mississippi River greeted us. There was a bar decorated with bamboo, plastic parrots, and an assortment of potted tropical plants.
A large number of guests had already gathered in the Safari Room, mingling among the buffet tables and spinning on a small black and white dance floor. BeBe Comeaux greeted us at the door and I noticed she gave Uncle Lance an especially lingering embrace.
A disc jockey was set up in the corner of the dance floor playing music even I was not familiar with.
“What happened to classic disco?” Uncle Lance grimaced as the pounding beat of rap music vibrated within the room.
“Perhaps we are getting old, Lance,” my father said, patting his brother on the shoulder.
Uncle Lance smirked at my father. “Me, never. You, on the other hand, were born old.”
“You still got something going on with that tramp BeBe?” a familiar voice insinuated behind us.
We all turned in unison to see Val, decked out in a stunning lavender silk gown with an array of lavender feathers fanned out behind her silver hair.
Uncle Lance smiled at her. “Well, well, Valie, you’ve gone native.”
Val cackled as she stroked her feathers. “No, this is my homage to BeBe and her idiotic jungle theme.”
I leaned over and pecked her cheek. “I didn’t think you would be coming.”
“Of course I was coming, pet.” Val smiled at me and winked at Dallas. “I came to check out BeBe’s set-up. Have to make sure I outdo her next weekend at my party.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Which won’t be hard.”
Dallas kissed her cheek. “Glad for the support. I have to admit I’m a little nervous about meeting Nicci’s friends.”
“I hope you brought a bulletproof vest,” Val cackled. “Dearie, even the National Guard wouldn’t set foot in this room without heavy artillery.” She paused and looked out into the crowd. “Uh oh.”
We all turned to see what had made Val go quiet. Across the room, heading straight for us, came Colleen, dragging her man Ray behind her. She was dressed in an off-the-shoulder pink disaster of ribbon, intertwined with silk, intertwined with lace, and all wrapped snugly around her ample bosom and slim hips. It trailed to the floor in a short train, had a plunging neckline, and a slit up the right side revealing Colleen’s thick ankles. She wore a pair of matching incandescent pink rhinestone high heels.
“Oh my God!” was all Val could get out before the two were on us.
We all stood there staring at Colleen’s outfit.
Uncle Lance was the first to break the silence. “So Colleen, you, ah, designed this one too?”
“Oh yes, Uncle Lance,” Colleen squealed. “I’ve got the most wonderful designer I’m working with. I’m hoping one day to develop my own line.”
“For who, the blind?” Uncle Lance mumbled underneath his breath.
“It is certainly eye catching,” I quickly added, hoping she did not hear my uncle’s remark.
She did a turn for us and ran her hands delicately over the hodgepodge of fabric hanging off her. I could see Dallas keeping his eyes downcast while trying to contain his grin.
“So you paid someone to make this?” Val inquired.
But Colleen did not get a chance to answer; Aunt Hattie suddenly appeared with Uncle Ned in tow. She was wearing a form-fitting blue taffeta dress with a large sash across the waist and white lace around the neck and hemline. Uncle Ned was in a tailored black tuxedo, looking very bored.
“Hello, everyone,” Aunt Hattie said, greeting our group, and then began the usual kisses for my father, uncle, and me. Then she gasped.
“Good lord, child!” Aunt Hattie’s brown eyes were as wide as hazelnuts as she looked at her daughter’s dress. “Where in the hell did you get that?”
Colleen patted the dress lovingly. “Edna Doyle made it for me.”
Aunt Hattie grimaced. “Colleen, you look like a pink-encrusted garbage bag.”
Uncle Lance began to laugh. My father covered his mouth trying not to laugh while Val scowled at Aunt Hattie.
“I like it, Hattie,” Val snapped. “The kid’s got guts.”
“Thank you, Auntie Val.” Colleen raised her head proudly to her mother. “See?”
“Perhaps,” Uncle Ned finally spoke up, “we should all make our way over to the bar.”
“Good idea,” Val agreed and started across the room to a bamboo-covered bar.
Aunt Hattie, Uncle Ned, Colleen, and Ray followed behind her.
Dallas held out his arm to me. “Shall we?”
“And what do you want us to do?” my father whispered to Dallas.
“Stick close by,” Dallas told my father. “Keep your eyes open and be ready for a hasty departure.”
“What are you going to do?” Uncle Lance asked, curiosity gleaming in his green eyes.
“Make my introductions.” Dallas then looked over to me. “Ready?”
I nodded and let him lead me away.
Scattered about the room I saw a few of the faces I had known from my time in the city before David. I stopped and said hello to some old family friends, the Trotters, the Hendersons, and the Roys. I introduced Dallas as a friend in for the holidays from New York. We had just about made it halfway across the room to the bar when I spotted Sammy Fallon.
She was talking with one of her cronies from the socially prominent set referred to by those in the know as the “old guard.” She had not changed much in the almost two years since I had seen her. She still had the body of a centerfold model, her face was without the slightest wrinkle, and her blue eyes remained those of a cruel old woman. Her low-cut azure satin dress clung to her overly expanded cleavage and slim hips. Her blond hair was up and wrapped in a twist, and she was covered from head to toe in diamonds.
“Sammy Fallon,” I whispered to Dallas.
“Ah, so that is the tigress.” He leaned in closer to me while keeping his eyes on Sammy. “I can see why David thought her common.”
“He said that?”
He nodded. “Said she was a classless woman who had bought her breeding and not earned it.”
I smiled to myself as I could almost hear David saying those exact words.
He pulled at my arm as he started toward Sammy. “Let’s go over and introduce me.”
“And then what?” I questioned, but I never got to hear his reply because Sammy’s eyes spotted us in the crowd. I noticed her line of sight immediately zeroed in on Dallas. The tigress had spotted fresh meat.
“Nicci!” She smiled as Dallas and I came forward. She leaned over to brush my cheek with a light kiss. When she stood back again, her sinister eyes hungrily traveled over Dallas’s body. “It’s been too long,” she added. “And who is this?”
“Sammy Fallon, this is Dallas August. He’s a friend in from New York for the holidays. He’s an architect.”
“Architect?” she asked, and then teasingly dipped her voluminous cleavage into his line of sight. “Really! With what firm?”
Dallas smiled devilishly. “Lewis, Schribbner, and Libby.”
“Ah,” she gave a toothsome grin, “I know them well.” Her blue eyes locked in on the way I had my arm wrapped around his. “So how long have you two been an item?”
