Love And Games: Taste The Heat Part 10

"Just a woman I work with," he quickly replied. There was no way in h.e.l.l he was letting worry over Angelle screw things up between them. "No one important."

A strange look settled on her face and Jason rushed to change the topic. "So, I'm curious. If weekends are so busy in the restaurant business, when do chefs ever get time off?"

Obviously, he knew she had Mondays off. But he wasn't waiting a whole week to take her out. Cane and Sherry exchanged a look.

"It varies restaurant to restaurant, I suppose," Colby answered. "For myself, I normally take off Mondays and Thursdays. Some weeks I change it up and take off Wednesday instead, but those days are typically the slowest."

Quickly going over the calendar in his head, Jason nodded. He could work with Thursday.

"Hey, Bug, do you mind running to the truck? I borrowed Talladega Nights from Uncle Cane and forgot it in there."

His daughter was no idiot. The same sly smile she wore when they'd arrived snuck back on her face, and she nodded. "Sure thing." She dashed across the restaurant without another word.

Sherry sank into the booth across from him, plopping her chin in her hand with an exultant look. "Don't let me interrupt."

Jason's lips twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt. There was no point hiding anything. Sherry already caught them making out, and Cane knew the score. Or, what he thought was the score. With a quick glance at his friend, Jason swiped the sugar container from Colby's fingertips and said, "Thursday night I'm taking you out. A real date this time, out of the house. By some miracle, the both of us are off on the same night and we're jumping on it."

A mischievous spark lit her gray eyes. "Oh we are, huh?" A smirk twitched her lips, telling exactly what kind of jumping Colby had in mind. And when he nodded, at both the question and her unspoken innuendo, the smirk turned wicked.

Jason fisted his hands by his side, barely keeping himself from capturing those twitching lips with his own. But he could afford to be patient. If phase two went anywhere near as well as phase one, by the end of the night Thursday that wicked smirk would be the only thing Colby had on.

Chapter Twelve.

What kind of underwear did one wear when dressing for a night of seduction? So far, Colby had worn the lacy black ensemble during the first botched attempt after Emma's a.s.sembly and her purple satin during the second debacle at Jason's house. Obviously, the s.e.xier the outfit the better. But when the end goal was to shed the clothes as quickly as possible, wouldn't it make more sense simply to go without?

Colby choked on her swig of Diet Mountain Dew. Even in her own thoughts, she couldn't let herself go there. With her luck, her dress would bunch up at dinner and she'd moon the entire restaurant. No, as daring as the notion was, it was best to stick with traditional come-hither attire. And luckily, she'd ransacked Victoria's Secret last week for this very reason. Surveying the array of options in her lingerie drawer, she selected a red lace push-up bra and matching panties. If that didn't say hey baby, she didn't know what did.

After donning the s.e.xy garments and sliding a flirty black dress over her head, she brushed out her hair and reapplied her lipstick. A spritz of perfume later, she was ready to roll. With a few minutes remaining before Jason was expected, Colby slid onto a bar stool in the kitchen and grabbed her legal pad, jotting down notes for her latest recipe: crawfish beignets.

Ever since their emotional dinner, she had been riding a high at the restaurant. The smells and tastes of the kitchen were now welcomed, instead of endured. Twists on old recipes kept springing to mind. One night hadn't erased all the pain of her past. She wasn't ready to say she'd completely forgiven her father. But she was able to embrace the food of her childhood and her culture. And that was a big first step.

A loud rap on the door startled her and sent her pulse skittering. Shoving the pad back in the drawer, Colby pushed to her feet and fanned her face, wondering, not for the first time, why she couldn't be the smooth, confident one for once. She closed her eyes, counted to five, fanned some more, and let out a deep breath. Game time.

Sauntering through the hall, she added a sway to her hips. True, no one was there to witness the performance, but it did put what she hoped was a s.e.xy smile on her face. She raised her chin and tugged open the door. "Why h.e.l.lo there, Handsome-"

And that's as far as Colby got. Her eyes widened, drinking Jason in. Oh, he was handsome all right. Sinfully so. And if she hadn't skipped lunch that day due to a nervous tummy, she'd be hauling him inside and saying to h.e.l.l with dinner. He was dressed in dark slacks and a white b.u.t.ton down shirt. The tail untucked, the sleeves rolled up, and the top b.u.t.ton left undone. At the expanse of toned, tanned skin, her mouth went dry. Holy Forearms, this man is hot! She blinked and raised her eyes to meet his amused gaze.

"You, Miss Robicheaux, are stunning." Under Jason's sweeping appraisal, Colby's flesh tingled as if he'd stroked it. His eyes came to rest on the deep V-neck of her dress, and a slow smile stretched across his face. "Are you ready?"

Are you?

Nodding, she grabbed her bag from the entry table, still rendered mute. Last night Jason had texted her, giving no clues as to what lay ahead other than she needed to pack an overnight bag. When Sherry had shamelessly read this over her shoulder, she had cackled with delight.

"Here, let me," he said, slipping the bag from her fingers. He slid his other hand behind her back, leading her out the door. She loved that he was a physical touch kind of guy. Not afraid to hold her hand, to brand her with his palm. It was comforting and thrilling and completely addictive. His hand stayed on the small of her back while she locked up and as they walked toward his truck. He opened her door, like the true Southern gentleman he was, and then sealed her inside.

Watching him stroll around the front of the truck, Colby reminded herself for what felt like the millionth time that this wasn't truly a date. That it was two friends hanging out, grabbing dinner, and taking advantage of the unmistakable attraction snapping between them. But the more she tried to convince herself that her heart was safe, the more she realized it was a lie. And she hated liars.

If she were to be honest with herself-truly and completely honest-she'd admit that she was falling in love with Jason. If she'd ever truly fallen out of it. And the more time they spent together-the longer she was exposed to his smiles, to his laughter, to his kindness-the more tempted she was to believe in happily ever afters again. This summer was changing her. And she wasn't sure if it was for the better.

"So, where you taking me, Captain?" she asked when Jason hopped behind the wheel.

He shot her a look as he cranked the engine. "Do you really think I'd ruin forty-eight hours of mystery now? I've worked hard, woman. All will be revealed in time."

She scrunched her nose. "Not even a tiny hint?"

"Anyone ever tell you that surprises can be romantic?" he asked, backing out of the driveway. "I've heard some women find them to be a turn on."

Colby snorted. "If I get any more turned on, this truck might just combust."

It took a moment for her to realize she'd actually spoken that thought aloud. When she did, she smacked her hand over her mouth.

Jason chuckled. "Well then," he said with a wicked grin. "Challenge accepted."

Somehow, Colby managed not to embarra.s.s herself, or set fire to the truck, during the rest of the drive. But that was more likely due to her preoccupation than her linguistic skills. As soon as Jason had turned on to the Causeway, she'd known where he was taking her. And with each mile driven to downtown New Orleans, her mind had tripped over memories of field trips, former dates, high school dances, and family gatherings. Over the years, she'd made the occasional trip back home. There were a handful of Christmases, one botched Thanksgiving, her mother's funeral three years ago, and then her dad's only two months ago. But in all those visits, she'd never ventured outside their small hometown. Colby hadn't actually set foot in the city of New Orleans since she was eighteen years old.

As they drove down I-10, she kept her eyes open for changes. The lingering effects of Katrina could still be felt, some more noticeable than others. But the regrowth, the improvements, were everywhere, and that made her heart swell with pride. Southerners were made of strong stuff for sure, but New Orleanians embodied determination. They never gave up on their beloved Saints-and that unfailing belief got them the Super Bowl. And the stubborn faith bled into their homes and communities. Most of the people who evacuated came right back and rebuilt on the same plot of ground the levee waters destroyed.

Colby had watched the footage along with the rest of the world and received updates from her family. But seeing the rejuvenation in person, breathing the same air again...it felt right.

It felt like home.

And that, she suspected, was the whole point of tonight's venture. Jason was definitely up to something. First with the food the other night, and now with the city walk down memory lane. It wasn't unheard of for locals to make the twenty-minute trek downtown, but her intuition was screaming that the man had a plan. And the thrum of energy in her veins said that it was working.

d.a.m.n him.

Colby grinned despite herself. Jason noticed. "I take it you approve?" he asked, glancing over as he turned onto Royal Street.

She nodded, prepared to tell him just how much she approved, when her breath caught. They had turned again, this time onto Orleans Street, and the truck slowed to a stop in front of the Bourbon Orleans.

Flags waved overhead. Wrought iron balconies and charming painted shutters whispered Southern elegance. This almost two hundred year old building was the site of Colby's high school prom. It was where she'd envisioned getting married someday. She snuck a glance at Jason. Could he have known that?

The man in question winked at her as he handed the keys over to the valet. "Your room awaits, m'lady."

"You knew, didn't you?"

"It's possible your sister gave me some suggestions," he admitted with a grin. He reached over and gently grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the lighthearted expression he'd worn during the drive fading into a look of complete sincerity. "Colby, I'm not above asking for help if it means making this night perfect for you."

For a moment, she forgot to breathe. It was possible her heart forgot to beat. She simply stared into Jason's melted caramel eyes. There was a message swirling in their depths, and although she wasn't entirely sure what it was, b.u.t.terflies began twirling in her stomach anyway.

A softened cough popped the bubble that had formed around them. The young valet stood at the driver's side door, key in hand, patiently waiting for them to step out. Heat flooded her cheeks when the man's lips twitched, and she quickly opened her door and hopped onto the sidewalk.

As Jason handed their baggage over to the bell staff, Colby breathed in the city. To the left stood the historic St. Louis Cathedral, and to the right, couples were strolling down the world famous Bourbon Street. At the corner, a two-piece band played a jazz tune, the old man's raspy voice encouraging curious children to dance. Everything you could possibly want to see or experience in the city was within walking distance. Growing up, she hadn't gotten many chances to play tourist, but she had a feeling tonight that was exactly what Jason had in mind. And she couldn't wait.

Inside, the hotel was exactly as she remembered. Gorgeous crystal chandeliers, thick opulent columns, and an extended white tile walkway outlined in smooth black marble. The lobby screamed decadence. Alcoves to the left and right featured lavish furniture and lush, patterned rugs that begged guests to rest their feet and soak it in. As tempting as the thought was, Colby was a woman on a mission.

Jason held out his hand, and she took it.

Waiting as he checked them in and arranged for the luggage delivery to their room, Colby couldn't help feeling as though she was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. No, she wasn't a high-cla.s.s hooker. And sure, she had stayed in hotels just as fancy, if not fancier, than this in Vegas. But standing in the lobby of the Bourbon Orleans, she felt overwhelmed. In over her head. And as if at the end of the night, her life could change.

Like the main character Vivian, Colby hadn't expected or needed much from her time with Jason. She'd imagined hot trysts and stolen moments. Instead, he was giving her luxury and romance.

The warmth of Jason's hand snapped her back to reality. He nodded toward the exit. "Judging by the growling noises coming from your stomach on the ride over, I'd say the lady is starved." He flashed a grin when she winced. "Ready for surprise number two?"

"It's impolite to remark on bodily functions," she replied with mock annoyance. Then she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "And yes, please. Feed me."

He took her hand and slid it into the crook of his arm. "Right this way."

The click of her heels on the lobby tile and then the paved sidewalk of Orleans kept time with her pulse. She didn't know where he was taking her, but she knew if the hotel was any indication, she was in for a treat. At the corner, they took a right onto Bourbon. People stood on the beautiful wrought iron balconies holding beads and toasting the crowds below. She and Jason shared a smile at the tipsy couple walking in front of them. It was forever five o'clock in the French Quarter.

It was after the quick right onto St. Ann Street and then the right onto Royal that Colby laughed. "Are you walking me in circles, Mr. Landry?"

"A bit of misdirection perhaps," he said with a chuckle. "Have to make sure you get the full experience. We have a few minutes to kill before our reservation, and another surprise is up after dinner. I wanted you to at least glimpse Bourbon in case we're"-he bit his lip and shot her a heated look-"eager to return to our room for dessert later."

Oh yeah. Bring on dessert.

She nodded as delicious antic.i.p.ation tightened her stomach. "Excellent call."

Through l.u.s.t-dazed eyes, Colby turned back to the city before her. Paintings of all shapes, sizes, and styles by local artists lined the fence outside St. Louis Cathedral. They slowed as they admired the art.

"This would look awesome in Robicheaux's."

Jason glanced over at the giant crawfish playing a jazz ba.s.s guitar in a swirl of bright blues and purple music notes. He grinned. "He kinda looks like Cane."

She looked again and laughed. "I haven't seen him play in a while, but you're absolutely right. I have to get it."

"Here, let me," he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. She opened her mouth to argue and he pressed a quick kiss against her lips. "I insist."

The artist handed him his change and then smiled as she asked, "Local or tourist?" while she wrapped the canvas in plastic.

Jason tuned to Colby who answered, "Local."

The man beside her tensed, and when he took the packaged artwork from the artist's outstretched hands, a satisfied smile stretched across his face.

At the corner of Saint Peter, he tossed money in a musician's opened guitar case. Setting the painting beside it, he took Colby's hand and twirled her in a slow circle. Tugging her close he whispered, "Dance with me."

The world shrank to the two of them, and the sultry sound of a blues guitar. Jason's hips brushed hers. Their eyes locked. And Colby was lost. A goner. As he slid his hand around her waist, guiding her left hand behind his neck with the other, she wondered how she ever thought she could do this without falling head over heels for him again. The boy of her childhood had been fantasy worthy. The man he'd become was real-battle tested and flawed, but still devastatingly perfect for her.

Neither of them spoke as they swayed to the rasp of the singer's voice, the intoxicating thrum of his harmonica. They didn't need to. She was pretty sure her feelings were written all over her face. She was exposed, vulnerable. And torn between wanting to believe the promise she thought she saw in Jason's eyes and needing to steel her heart against it.

He made her want to believe that they could be different. That he could stay faithful and they could have a real shot. Loosening the binds around her heart would be taking a giant leap; she'd be abandoning her entire belief system. But Jason Landry may just be worth it.

The song ended. Drawing oxygen into her parched lungs, Colby turned to thank the musician. The old gentleman tipped his hat and gave her a sweet, missing tooth smile. "Y'all have a nice night now."

Chapter Thirteen.

The Court of Two Sisters had been just as magical as Colby remembered. Her parents had taken here there for her thirteenth birthday, and then again for their famous jazz brunch when she turned sixteen. The restaurant's secluded brick patio, the tranquil mosaic fountain, and the canopy of trees lit with twinkle lights always made her feel like she was stepping inside the pages of a fairy tale. As she and Jason dined on fried oysters Rockefeller and juicy barbecue shrimp, a three-piece jazz band serenaded them. If she hadn't already decided she was in love with the man, the romantic setting might just have pushed her over the edge.

After dinner they strolled down Toulouse Street and then onto Decatur, past the familiar sights of Jackson Square. Clutching the painting he'd bought for her, Jason led Colby past the front of the Cathedral. When she realized they were heading in the direction of Cafe Du Monde, she b.u.mped him with her hip. "I thought you said dessert was at the hotel," she said with an exaggerated frown.

It was entirely possible she was more than a little inebriated.

Jason laughed and brushed his lips across her temple. "Oh, baby, that's still on. This is just a snack. I have big plans for dessert."

A fresh onslaught of desire incited by the look in his eyes mixed with the rum already floating in her veins, and it was all Colby could do not to tackle him on the street. Instead, she followed as he got an order of beignets to go and then walked up to a mule-drawn carriage.

"Private tour for Landry," Jason said, sliding his driver's license out of his wallet. He handed it along with a folded piece of paper to the flamboyantly dressed driver.

"Hey boy," Colby whispered to the sleepy looking mule. The mule responded by p.o.o.ping into the bag attached to its backside. Lovely. Jason laughed and she sent him a wry smile. "It appears I have an interesting effect on the male species."

"That you do." He kissed her lips and then handed her up into the carriage. "Now," he said, settling beside her, "it's very important that we enjoy this ride together while eating these." He opened the bag of beignets and pulled out a big, fluffy, powdered-sugar-coated treat.

"Very important?" she asked, eyeing the pastry with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Jason nodded and leaned close to her ear. "Trust me. After we do this, I'm prepared to ravage you in our room."

Without another word, Colby s.n.a.t.c.hed the beignet from his hands and took a huge bite. Sweet, airy dough hit her taste buds and her eyes rolled back in her head. "Mmm," she moaned, taking another bite. "Oh my G.o.d, that is good."

She opened her eyes when she heard Jason groan. His hungry gaze was riveted on her mouth. And when her tongue darted out for the sugar that clung to her lips, he drew a sharp breath through his nose. In a strained voice, he told the driver, "We're ready."

Obviously, the man had a plan. And she was trying to be grateful for all the thought he had put into their night. But as romantic as the carriage ride was, and as good as it felt to ride down the streets playing tourist in the city she'd missed (even if she never admitted it to herself), what Colby really wanted was to thank the driver for his efforts, jump out of the carriage, and race back to the hotel for Jason's dessert.

What she settled for, however, was the seductive graze of his fingers along the inside of her thigh. The slow skim of his nose along her throat. And the sound of his harsh breathing in her ear, telling her he wanted this as badly as she did.

Finally, the ride came to a stop back where they began. Jason practically threw a tip at the driver before grasping her hand and hailing a nearby cab. "Bourbon Orleans," he growled, ushering her inside.

"Bourbon Orleans? You know that's only-"

"I know," Jason interrupted, causing Colby to giggle. "This is faster."

The cab driver craned his neck around with a puzzled look. But after taking in the pair of them, he grinned. "Gotcha."

Five minutes later, they were back in their hotel room, tearing at each other's clothes.

Colby's hip b.u.mped into a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. Room service must've brought them, but she'd had enough food for one evening. Lips followed fingers down the b.u.t.tons of Jason's shirt, eager to see and taste the muscles she'd so far only gotten to imagine. She pushed the sides open and threw the garment on the floor.

She pressed her mouth over his racing heart, drunk on his scent. "Whatever the h.e.l.l cologne this is, I approve," she said, flicking her tongue over the flattened disk of his nipple.