Easy Love Page 3

  His tastes like the after-meal peppermint we both ate, and the light one or two day scruff on his chin rasps against my skin in the most tantalizing way. I can’t help but wonder how it would feel on other parts of my body…behind my knees, between my breasts, between my legs.

  Holy shit, I bet he would feel amazing between my legs.

  I grip onto his biceps and realize that the one arm he’s slung around the small of my back is the only thing keeping me upright. My knees no longer exist. We’re both breathing hard as he drags his fingers down my cheek and pulls back, nibbling the edge of my lips once more, and then he’s gone, staring down at me with shining whiskey eyes.

  “That. That’s a bad idea.”

  Chapter Three

  Eli

  “So how was your date?” Beau asks, just before he attacks me from behind, his arm wrapped around my neck. I slip out of his grip, flip him onto his back, and glare down at him, sweaty and panting.

  “What date?”

  “Heard you left out of here for the day with Van’s friend Kate,” Ben Preston, a life-long friend of ours, and the Krav Maga expert that comes to train us four times a week, says with a smug grin. He’s already shirtless and sweaty, but barely panting. Ben’s not as tall as Beau and me, but he’s much stronger, and he’s fucking badass. “After Van told you to keep your hands off. She’s pissed, by the way.”

  “It wasn’t a fucking date,” I mutter, and wipe the sweat off my forehead with a towel before switching my attention to Ben and throwing a punch, which he deflects, and we spar for a few long, hard minutes before I can continue. “Beau and Van were in a meeting. Someone had to meet her and show her the loft.”

  “And buy her a hat and take her lunch?” Beau asks with a wide grin. “Van’s gonna cut your balls off.”

  “What are you, a bunch of gossiping women?” I whip my soaking wet T-shirt over my head, then prop my hands on my hips.

  “Charly called me after you left her shop. She said you looked love sick.”

  “Fuck that,” I mutter with disgust. “I don’t do love sick, and you know it. So, Charly called you, and you used the family phone tree to spread the news that I was being nice to Kate?”

  Beau and Ben both laugh, then Ben catches me off guard and takes me down to the mat. Motherfucker. “So, you’re not taking her to Dec’s gig tonight?”

  “Do you want Mama’s recipe for her pecan pie too?” I snarl.

  “Wow, you’re very defensive for someone who’s not interested in the pretty Kate.”

  “She’s not pretty,” I mutter. She’s fucking beautiful.

  “Yeah, I’m not really into redheads with freckles myself. But the last time I saw her, she had a sexy little body,” Beau continues, speaking to Ben, who nods thoughtfully.

  I’m going to kill them both.

  With my bare hands.

  “When did you see her?”

  “During one of my trips to visit Dec and Van at college.” Beau strips out of his own shirt and tosses it away. “That was a while ago, though. Maybe she got fat.”

  “She’s not fat,” I reply, walking right into his trap. “Look, I’m just being nice to her.”

  “Right,” Ben nods, just before he takes Beau down to the mat, but Beau pulls out, rolls Ben beneath him, and pulls up to throw a punch, which Ben rolls out of, and for the next few minutes they try to best each other.

  I am not lovesick over Kate. Sure, she’s sexy with her thick auburn hair and big green eyes, and the freckles on her face and shoulders simply beg to be kissed and traced, but for the love of fuck, she’s an employee. It’s just been longer than I care to admit since I last got laid.

  That’s a detail easily taken care of.

  But the thought of any of the usual women I call to scratch that particular itch holds no interest.

  Fuck.

  “Not paying attention gets your ass kicked, man,” Beau warns, just before he pulls my torso down and knees me in the stomach, then throws an elbow up, but I throw him off balance and he misses. Barely.

  “Stop daydreaming about hot redheads and pay attention,” Ben snarls.

  “I’m done,” I mutter, and suck down a bottle of water.

  “We have ten minutes left,” Beau says.

  “You go ahead.”

  “Dude.” Beau, panting and sweaty himself, props his hands on his hips and levels me with a somber look. “Be careful.”

  “I haven’t done a fucking thing,” I reply, but the memory of that hot kiss in her loft is right there, front and center. Her sweet body pressed to mine, her hair tangled in my fingers, and those bright green eyes, full of lust and mistrust, pinned to mine as I backed away and ran like a bat out of hell.

  “Okay.” Beau shrugs and shakes his head. “But if you decide to do the fucking thing, be honest with her.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You have a habit of making women fall for you, and then you squish them like bugs,” Ben adds.

  “I do not.”

  “Yeah, you do. Dad never meant for you to—”

  “This isn’t therapy,” I interrupt, and turn my back on both of them, headed to the shower. “I’m fine. Kate’s safe from me. I’ll make sure she gets to Dec’s gig safely, and then I’ll probably rarely see her after that.”

  “Eli.”

  I turn at Ben’s voice.

  “I do want that recipe. Your mom’s pecan pie is the best.”

  I smirk, shake my head, and leave to the loud grunts of Beau getting his ass kicked.

  ***

  Kate answers her door and I just about swallow my tongue at the sight of her. Her hair has been swept up onto her head, with soft wavy strands hanging around her face. She’s in a silk black tank top that flows from the tops of her breasts to her waist, and white Capri pants.

  And the sexiest strappy black heels I’ve ever fucking seen.

  She’s safe from me. No messing with her.

  “Eli.”

  “Right the first time,” I reply, and offer her a smile. I seem to smile at this woman a lot.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you I’d take you to Declan’s gig tonight.” I raise a brow as she bites her lip and winces. “Problem?”

  “I kind of figured that offer was off the table. Especially after—”

  “After what?” She glances down at my chest and her eyes dilate. Oh, she’s interested, all right. The chemistry is off the charts.

  “After you kissed me.” Her eyes return to mine, and she tilts her chin up defiantly. She’s not going to back down and get shy, or play coy.

  Good girl.

  “I don’t play games, cher.” She frowns slightly at the nickname.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I won’t kiss you and then ignore you.”

  “No, cher. What does it mean?”

  I grin and skim the tip of my finger down her nose. I can’t seem to keep my hands off this woman. So much for not playing games.

  Jesus, get it together, Boudreaux.

  “It’s a Creole term that means dear or darling. Are we going to stand in your doorway all night?”

  She shakes her head and steps back, allowing me to pass. The place already smells like her, like honey.

  “You really don’t have to take me. Declan texted me with the address. According to my Google Maps app, it’s not far.”

  “You shouldn’t be walking around the Quarter after dark by yourself. You don’t know your way around, and anything could happen. Besides, his club is on Bourbon. You’re not walking down Bourbon looking like that.”

  “Looking like what?” she demands, and props her hands on her hips, making her shirt lift just an inch, giving me a glimpse of creamy white skin.

  “Like a walking wet dream,” I mutter and shove my hand through my hair.

  “I live here. How can I never walk around after dark?” She raises a brow and is doing her best to look unaffected by me, but her che
eks have reddened and she keeps licking those plump lips of hers in agitation.

  Those lips that taste like heaven and move effortlessly beneath my own.

  I narrow my eyes and watch as she tosses her phone, cash, and other mysterious things that women carry with them into a small handbag and turns back to me.

  “I’d feel better if I walked you.”

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugs and glances around, as if she thinks she might be forgetting something. “How far is the walk?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  I almost tell her that those heels are going to be a pain in the ass on the cobblestones and uneven sidewalks, but then decide against it. If the thought of keeping her held against me to make sure she’s safe makes me an asshole, so be it.

  I am an asshole.

  Kate follows me down her stairs to the sidewalk below, and we set off toward Bourbon Street and Declan’s gig.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this? You’ve had a long day.” I catch her elbow as she cautiously makes her way around a wide hole in the sidewalk, then settle my hand on the small of her back. It just seems to fit there.

  “I haven’t heard Dec play in years,” she replies with a smile. “I miss it. He’s so talented. He could be doing so much more with his music than he is.”

  “New Orleans is his home,” I reply softly, but with complete agreement. “He was in Memphis last month working on an album.”

  “I know. I was in town on a job, so we met for dinner, but I didn’t get to hear him play.”

  “So, how close are you really?” I do my best to ignore the stab of fucking jealously that spears my gut.

  “Very close.” She nods and reaches for my arm as we cross a cobblestoned street, when she almost loses her balance on those sexy shoes. “He and Savannah and I were roommates. Declan is one of my dearest friends.”

  Naked friends?

  I want to ask, but hold my tongue. She was right this afternoon; it’s none of my fucking business if she and Declan have a physical relationship.

  Ah, fuck it.

  “Have you two ever—”

  “I believe we already had this conversation,” she says with a laugh.

  “I don’t think it’s funny.”

  “The thought of me having sex with Declan is hilarious,” she replies and smiles up at me, her gorgeous green eyes glowing under the streetlights. “He’s like a brother to me, Eli.”

  I nod and lead her to the left, down Bourbon Street, the hubbub of the French Quarter. At night, at least.

  “Holy moly,” she breathes, and takes in all the lights, the loud music, and the people leaning on the railings above the street. “It’s like Vegas on steroids.”

  I laugh and tuck her hand in mine, linking our fingers. “That it is. It’s still early, so this is pretty tame.”

  The streets have been blocked off for foot traffic only.

  “There are a lot of sex shops on this street.” Her frank observation startles a laugh from me, and I glance down to find her smiling up at me.

  “It’s Bourbon,” I reply with a shrug. “The club that Declan is playing at is actually pretty classy. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I think I like it all,” she replies softly. “It’s hard to believe this is the same city from one block over.”

  I nod and lead her through an iron gate into a wide courtyard with lights twinkling in the trees overhead. I introduce myself to the hostess, and she immediately guides us to the front of the crowd to two seats right in front of the stage, where Declan is playing a jazz song on the piano.

  Dec’s voice is deep and croony, reminiscent of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. He has a decent voice, but it’s what he can do with a musical instrument—any instrument—that makes him stand out.

  He’s a freaking genius.

  “Did it bother you that he chose music over the family company?” Kate asks from beside me, swaying back and forth to the song.

  “No. That would be stupid. Listen to him.”

  She nods and then smiles up at me, a full-on smile that lights up her face, and I find that I have to swallow hard and fist my hands to keep from reaching out and cupping that amazing face in the palm of my hand and leaning in for a kiss.

  No more kissing.

  I make myself look back up at Dec, who’s watching us. He shakes his head and finishes his song to delighted applause.

  “Ah, that’s awfully kind of you,” he drawls, and winks at a woman in the front row who winks back. And they call me the man-whore. “I have some special guests here tonight, ladies and gentlemen.”

  He stands from the piano and reaches for a guitar, then pulls two chairs to the edge of the stage and grabs an extra mic as well.

  Kate is already shaking her head no.

  Interesting.

  “My brother, Eli, is here tonight.” He smiles down at me, and I just grin and raise a brow. “And a very old friend from college is here too. In fact, Kate and I used to sing together all the time, and I’m going to talk her into coming up here and joining me right now.”

  The room erupts into applause, but Kate is vehemently shaking her head and saying “No. Heck no.”

  Heck no.

  Her aversion to cursing turns me on. I wonder what it would take to get her to talk dirty.

  I’m going to hell.

  “Come on, Kate. New Orleans wants to hear you sing.”

  I nudge her with my elbow and grin at the look of terror on her face. Finally, she swallows hard and stands, climbs the steps to the stage, sits next to Declan, and raises the mic to her mouth.

  “Was this necessary?”

  “Well, it’s not as fun if you sing from down there,” Declan replies and kisses her cheek. “Isn’t she pretty?”

  Why does everyone call her pretty? Can’t they see that she’s unbelievable?

  I applaud with the rest of the crowd, and then Declan begins to strum the guitar. “Remember this one?” he asks her.

  “I remember belting this one out after having a few too many drinks in Memphis at that dive bar you played in during college.”

  “That’s the one,” he confirms with a grin. And suddenly, Kate begins to sing Crazy by Patsy Cline, as if she was made to. It’s effortless for her. Declan joins her on the chorus, adding harmony, and when the song is over, they’re given a standing ovation. Kate stands and bows, kisses Declan’s cheek, and returns to her seat at my side.

  “Wow.” It’s all I can manage.

  “He’ll pay for that later.” She takes a deep breath and clenches her shaking hands together.

  “You have a beautiful voice.”

  She jerks one shoulder in a shrug and then settles back to listen to the rest of Declan’s set. She gradually relaxes, moving in her seat, singing along with the songs she knows. And when it’s all over, she stands and whoops and hollers, making Declan laugh from the stage.

  “Thanks for coming, superstar,” Declan says, as he pulls Kate in for a hug. “And you too,” he says to me. “It’s been a minute since you came to a show.”

  “Too long. I enjoyed it.”

  This seems to surprise him, and I feel like an ass. It has been too long.

  “I’d walk you home, but—” Declan looks over at the girl in the front row he winked at earlier and shoots her a smile.

  “I see things haven’t changed,” Kate mutters and shakes her head. “I’m fine. Eli walked me over.”

  “Do you mind walking her home?”

  “If it’s out of your way—” Kate begins, but I shake my head.

  “Of course. Have a good night.”

  “He’s so formal,” Declan says with a grin.

  “Not always,” Kate replies, and then kisses Declan’s cheek again, and before he can ask what she means by that, she says, “call me soon. We’ll have lunch or something.”

  And with that, we leave, winding our way through the crowd.

  “Would you like a drink for the walk home? There’s no open container law here.”


  “Sure. I’d love some white wine, please.”

  I order two glasses, and we set off toward home, walking slower so she can absorb everything happening around us.

  “We can walk up a block and get out of the crazy.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” Her eyes are pinned on a couple practically having sex against the wall of a building as we pass.

  I take her hand in mine and keep her close, glowering at the drunker than fuck men that leer at her as we pass.

  I’d rather not have her in the middle of this, and steer her down a block to walk up Royal, which is much more tame.

  “I really didn’t mind,” she insists and sips her wine.

  “I did.” I glance down at her and lead her around the gaping hole in the sidewalk. “Promise me you won’t go back there alone.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “Promise me, Kate.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  I sigh and stop us, right there on the sidewalk, steps from her front door, and turn her to face me. “Please, as a favor to me, don’t go back to Bourbon Street at night alone. People get shot, raped, beat up down there all the time, cher. If you want to go, take someone with you.”

  Her eyes are wide as she watches me, her hand flat on my chest. I pulled her against me without even realizing it, and now the zing of awareness is a pulsing need. I can feel her, from knee to chest, and it immediately makes my dick stand up and beg.

  This woman is going to be the death of me.

  And she’s off-limits.

  “Kate.”

  “I won’t,” she whispers, and watches my lips as she licks her own. An involuntary growl slips from my throat as I tip my head down and lean my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “This is a bad idea,” she whispers.

  “Very bad,” I agree, and reluctantly pull away and walk her down the block to her loft.

  “This house is pretty,” she says, gesturing to the four-story single family home right next to the building that holds her loft.

  “Thank you,” I reply.