Part 25 (1/2)
”He ... he's sick. Wait a minute, what do you know about-”
”I've been in New Orleans a few days. Naturally I wanted to see you. I made a few inquiries.”
”Oh?” She walked back toward him. ”And whom did you talk with to make these inquiries?”
”A man never gives away his sources.”
She was going to walk away again, but even as she thought it, her mind struggled-he was in front of her right now. No matter how impossible he was, she wanted to keep him there.
Maybe he sensed her flight. His hand was on her arm. She felt as if she were shaking inside. Remembering.
Being with him ...
”I ... I-”.
”How about a drink?”
”Some little out-of-the-way place?” she inquired.
”No, let's go back to your friend's bar. Drake's? Is that it? Great music.”
She lifted her hands. ”Why not?”
She started to lead the way. Then she suddenly paled, pus.h.i.+ng through the crowd, and turned back. She looked at him. ”I thought I saw ... I thought I heard-”
”Yeah, I thought so, too.”
”Wait a minute! I didn't even finish my sentence. I thought I saw-”
”The tour guide from Scotland. Right?”
She fought to keep her jaw in place. ”Right.”
”I know. It wasn't him.”
”You're certain?”
”Oh, yes. I'm certain.”
She turned around again. She stepped up on the sidewalk. ” 'Bathe a Beauty for a Buck,' ” he said, reading the neon advertis.e.m.e.nt. There was laughter in his voice. And something about it touched her....
She turned to look at him. He shrugged. ”Poor things must be really dirty.”
”I thought you were familiar with New Orleans.”
”Too familiar. It's just that I haven't seen that particular sign before.”
His hand touched the small of her back. She nearly jumped through the doorway. That was the way to want someone! she thought The slightest touch, here, there, anywhere, in the night, in the morning, in pain, in pleasure ...
Derrick saw them coming back in. He lifted a hand to Jade. ”Hey, kid, saw you running.” He nodded, acknowledging the man behind her.
”Jade, I got you a fresh beer. Sir, what will you be having?” ”Whatever Jade's having works for me.”
He nodded.
Jade smiled. ”Derrick Clayton, this is ...”
”Lucian. Lucian DeVeau,” her companion said, shaking Derrick's hand.
”Lucian. Nice to meet you.”
”Thanks. You, too.”
Jade stared at him, sipping her beer, gulping it. Here he was, here at last. She should be calling the police.
He'd be gone before they ever arrived. She knew it.
He turned on his bar stool, watching the band. He seemed to like the music. She studied the planes of his face. Powerful, handsome. And arrogant. He knew his own strengths and abilities.
”Is it real?” she asked softly.
”What?” he turned back to her, his eyes as black as the night, with that vague, strange hint of red.
”Your name.”
”Yes, it's real. Never changed to accommodate a new place or time, I'm afraid.”
”It's French.”
”Yes.”
”I met you in Scotland. You said you'd come from there.”
”Yes.”
”DeVeau is hardly Scottish.”
”People do move, you know.”
”So where were your people originally from?”
He leaned toward her. ”France, most probably.”
”Do you speak French?”
Now he hesitated. ”Yes. I like the language.”
She was frustrated, getting nowhere at all.
”You saved my life.” She wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.