Touching this woman was nothing short of torture

Lucas cleansed the cut on Bree’s leg, an innocent touch that inspired some not-so-innocent thoughts. Her thigh was supple and soft. He wanted to run his fingers up her leg and feel her muscles tense beneath his touch. He wanted to lean over and press his mouth to her thigh and watch her react.

He couldn’t ever remember being so attracted to a woman.

But he’d never met a woman like Bree before, either. No woman had ever dropped into his garden in the middle of the night.

Forcing himself to focus on his task of mending her injuries—incurred in that drop into his shrubbery—Lucas stood between her spread knees and tried not to be affected by the sight of her. But the way Bree braced herself on her hands gave him an incredible view…and the pulse beating quickly at the base of her throat made him hope she’d noticed his nearness, too.

Suddenly she shifted, her hand coming to rest on his where it dabbed at the corner of the cut. “You know, Lucas, you’re very good with your hands.”

Dear Reader,

One of the things I love about writing romance is creating worlds. I love masterminding the intricacies of a situation and forcing my characters to rise to challenges. I want them to overcome their struggles while finding the way to love and happily ever after.

To date, I’ve created my worlds alone, but with the RED LETTER NIGHTS miniseries, I shared the job with Harlequin Blaze authors Alison Kent and Karen Anders. We brainstormed. We dreamed. We had fun!

There’s another descendant of Captain Dampier living in Court du Chaud and, like him, she’s tackling a past mistake. But Bree rises to the challenge, because until the past is in the past, she won’t have a future. And a future with Lucas Russell is worth fighting for. Enjoy!

Drop me a line in care of Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada, or visit my Web site at www.jeanielondon.com.

Very truly yours,

Jeanie London

Going all Out
Jeanie London

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my cousin, Marietta Cesarini.

You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I’ve always found you such an inspiration ;-)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

1

LIFE MIGHT NOT HAVE dealt Bree Addison a royal flush in wealth or circumstance, but it had dealt her enough high cards to play toward a winning hand. Intelligence. Decent looks. Ambition. Lately she’d been playing every one.

And while walking home tonight after her shift at Toujacques—New Orleans’s premier casino—Bree could feel she was on the verge of pulling an ace from the deck.

Life had also dealt her stellar instincts. She had an internal alarm that could sense trouble from across Lake Pontchartrain.

The trick was paying attention.

So when she realized a car was following her, Bree took the alarm shrieking inside her head very seriously.

As if emphasizing her sudden awareness of danger, the moon slipped behind a cloud, throwing the street into shadow along the lengthy stretch between street lamps. She caught a heel on the uneven sidewalk and stumbled.

Grabbing the hem of her cocktail dress, she managed to catch herself and regain her balance before going down, but the effort left her pulse spiking hard.

The car drove along barely in her periphery, and she wondered how she could have missed it. How long had she been waltzing down these streets, so filled with good fortune at being named one of the two women under consideration for the promotion to Toujacques’ head VIP hostess job that she hadn’t noticed what was happening around her?

Bree didn’t know, and she didn’t like not knowing. It meant she’d been ignoring her instincts, never a smart thing in the best of circumstances.

Three in the morning in New Orleans’s French Quarter didn’t qualify as the best of circumstances.

Glancing around at the familiar surroundings that seemed strangely unfamiliar in the dark, she gauged the distance to the entrance of the court where she lived, relieved to see the brick wall that separated Court du Chaud from the rest of the French Quarter. If she could just make it around the corner and down the block to the alley…

Did she want that driver to see where she lived?

Taking a calculated risk, she stopped suddenly and leaned over as if to adjust the slingback strap on her sandal. Beneath the fall of her long hair, she peered at the car—a generic sedan, probably a rental. It kept moving toward her, achingly slow, but her instincts told her the driver worked hard not to tip his hand by noticeably decelerating.

Tires ground over a street clammy with late-night dew, a spongy sound that grew steadily louder. Chrome glinted as the sedan inched beneath a streetlight, and Bree recognized her opportunity. She straightened while lifting her gaze across the windshield….

And staggered as if she’d been punched.

For one startling second her heart seemed to stall in midbeat. Bree stood suddenly paralyzed, her face shielded by the fall of her hair, purse dangling from her shoulder. The February chill that had invigorated her earlier now prickled through her coat in icy needles.

Jude.

He’d always been a striking man, and the ruthless beauty of his face still held the power to make her stare stupidly, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real. No man who looked like this could possibly be real.

His long black hair was pulled back, a look that emphasized the flawlessly carved lines of his face, his unusual eyes. Up close those gray eyes would glint crystalline from beneath thickly fringed lashes. His eyes could play award-winning performances to any crowd.

Bree knew that firsthand because she’d been an audience he’d played to. Once upon a time, he’d played her big.

With every instinct shrieking to run and hide, she sucked in a breath that went down so hard she choked. By a sheer effort of will, she forced herself to step into the wash of light from a street lamp, becoming a bull’s-eye in her gold-spangled cocktail dress, a vulnerable target in heels that looked so sweet but made running impossible.

What was he doing here?

She wasn’t waiting around to find out.

Forcing herself into motion again, she strolled along as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She fought the urge to turn to see what he was up to. Taking her eyes off this man was never smart. But she couldn’t let him know he’d been made.

She wouldn’t tip her hand. Not to him.

Not ever again.

Every second underneath a streetlight scorched like the Louisiana summer sun, and Bree hadn’t realized she’d stopped breathing until moving into the shadows again, where she sucked in a hard breath that needled along her skin.

Think. Think.

He obviously knew where she worked or he wouldn’t be following her. He probably knew where she lived, too, but she didn’t have to lead him straight to her front door.

Lose him.

That was the only thing to do. But she couldn’t outrun his car wearing these overpriced sandals….

With her pulse hammering loudly in her ears, Bree eased her way toward a live oak that spread its branches over the street. She hiked her hem high to conceal the flashy gold dress beneath her coat and edged along the dew-slick brick wall.

Jude was almost past her before his taillights sparked red. He braked, and for a split second she could see him leaning over the steering wheel, scanning the street, looking for her.

His car inched forward, and she dared to breathe, hoping, praying he’d just keep on going. But Bree knew firsthand Jude Robicheaux was nothing if not determined.

The brake lights flashed again. He was turning around.

She stood frozen, knowing his headlights would soon expose her. If he saw her crouched in the shadows, he’d guess she’d made him. This little game of cat and mouse would end, and what he’d do then was anyone’s guess. Once, Bree had thought she’d known what this man was capable of.

She’d been wrong.

Why he was back in town was a mystery. Revenge maybe? The last she’d heard, there was an outstanding warrant for his arrest, and as she’d been a material witness when the cops had been building a case against him…

But after all this time? Jude had been the one caught scamming. He had to have known she would cooperate with the police. Wasn’t as though she had much of a choice since they’d been trying to implicate her. Then again, Jude had expected her to leave town with him and outrun the law, to leave her family and stick by him no matter what he’d been involved in.

She shivered. Didn’t it figure he would show up when she finally had the world by the tail, on the very night she’d learned all her hard work was paying off and she might actually realize her ambitions. He’d always had impeccable timing. He’d made his move on her when she’d been too young and stupid to see through him.

But Jude Robicheaux had already wasted as much of her time as Bree would let him waste. He wouldn’t get another second.

One fast glance around the street convinced her there was nowhere to run. Even without the lights flashing all over her cocktail dress, her formal-length hem and heels made her easy prey. He could be out of his car and on her before she screamed long enough to get anyone’s attention.

So Bree did the only thing she could do.

She lunged for the lowest branch. Catching the limb, she winced as the spiny bark bit into her palms but forced herself to hang on and swing her legs high to build momentum.

She tried to catch the branch with her foot, but her narrow dress left no room to maneuver. Luckily the seam gave at the last possible instant, and she managed to hook a knee over the limb and scramble on.

“Argh,” she groaned as prickly twigs and rough bark scratched nasty trails along her skin.

She could repair the seam of her fancy dress, but this was the end of a brand-new pair of seventeen-dollar panty hose.

Damn that Jude Robicheaux anyway.

With irritation fueling her efforts, she reached for an overhead branch and pulled herself upright.

She clung to the branches for balance, the heels of her shoes providing surprising leverage. The slope of the insteps caught the limb snugly, and she was able to gain enough footing to reach the top of the wall. Maybe they’d been worth the obscene amount she’d paid for them after all.

The sedan’s tires ground over the asphalt, engine belts whining in protest as Jude maneuvered a tight turn. The headlights swung around, aiming for her. Gritting her teeth, Bree hoisted herself onto the wall, glancing around desperately for something to hang on to as she lowered herself into the courtyard below.

Light shone through the French doors of the town house, casting the landscape into blackness despite the solar lights along the hedges. She didn’t recognize the town house she was invading, had no idea which of her neighbors might be awake so late.

Whoever he or she was, this neighbor obviously kept the landscaping tidy and the branches neatly trimmed. Not good for her. When the headlights sliced directly below her, there was no place for Bree to hide, nothing for her to do but tackle that twelve-foot drop.

With the wild thought that she should have known better than to walk home tonight, she let go of the branch and fell with a nauseating plunge until…

Something cushioned her fall at the very last second before she landed in the shrubbery with a noisy crash.

“Damn!”

Though she didn’t come down as hard as expected, every bone in her body rattled. She felt an icy wave pour through her and fought to free her arms from the tangle of twisted coat. Another seam split, and branches took out what was left of her hose.

A second passed before she caught her breath, another as she shook off her daze, but Bree didn’t dare move until assessing the damage. All things considered, she’d have expected that drop to be a lot worse. She had no idea what had broken her fall—had her coat caught on a branch and slowed her descent?

She didn’t get a chance to find out.

By the time she’d determined she’d live, despite some stinging scratches and a bruised hip that would wind up the color of a bayou sunrise, a shadow sliced across the light illuminating the courtyard.

Great. Someone was coming.

She had no clue which of her neighbors would find her but seriously hoped that he or she hadn’t called the police yet. If the police came, there’d be sirens and commotions and, worse still, explanations.

Any explanation involving Jude Robicheaux was likely to land Bree in the backseat of a police cruiser, and if she landed in lockup, she’d have no choice but to call her twin sister to spring her, which would mean more explanations.

Even worse, if work got wind of her unfortunate past, Bree wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of beating out Lana for that promotion….

Think. Think!

The light pouring through the French doors should work to her benefit rather than the neighbor’s, so if there was any way to slither unseen from the bushes and make a break for the gate…Rational thought stopped the instant her neighbor appeared in full view of the French doors and Bree realized whose courtyard this was.

Josie Russell’s.

Under normal circumstances, she would have just asked Josie to harbor her until Jude had moved on. Unfortunately tonight was decidedly abnormal.

Last weekend Bree had been one of the Court du Chaud crew to attend Josie’s wedding, and now the new Mrs. Max LeClerc honeymooned with her new hubby somewhere in the South Pacific.

The current occupant of Josie’s town house could be none other than the new bride’s brother, who’d traveled in from California for the wedding.

He wouldn’t have a clue who Bree was.

Josie had mentioned him, of course, but Bree couldn’t even remember his name. She’d noticed him at the wedding, though. Not only had he stood as the groom’s best man, but she didn’t think any woman alive could help noticing such an attractive man.

But while Josie’s brother might be really easy on the eyes, he was also one of those rich and powerful men like those she worked for as a VIP hostess at Toujacques, which meant he probably wouldn’t have a lot of sympathy for her trying to give her bad-news ex the slip.

If he even believed her.

He’d probably take one look at her torn dress and shredded hose and figure she’d run afoul of a particularly nasty john.

Boy, did she know this guy’s type.

Well, in all fairness, Bree didn’t know if Josie’s brother even liked to gamble, but Mr. Rich and Powerful had worn his custom tux that cost more than the down payment on her town house like a second skin. Even without the expensive suit, his attitude had flashed like neon.

I’m way beyond bored with my high-powered lifestyle, expensive toys and all those rich-bitch women throwing themselves at my feet.

Now he’d obviously heard the noise from her fall, and with the same arrogant self-assurance that had impressed her across a banquet hall, he strode to those French doors to find out what was happening in his sister’s backyard….

Bree blinked. Again.

Mr. Rich and Powerful wasn’t wearing an expensive tux tonight. He must have been taking a shower, because he wore nothing but a towel to cover some seriously toned, tanned and dripping wet skin.

Adrenaline had already been working a number on her. Now her heart started throbbing again. Her pulse rushed too fast, and Bree could only stare as he reached the doors and raised an arm to the lintel—to flip a lock, presumably—gifting her with the sight of shifting neck muscles, gathering biceps and rippling tummy. The towel slipped enough to reveal a lean hip and smooth skin angling down toward the telltale bulge of the goodies he kept hidden beneath the plush cotton.

Honestly, the man was entitled to parade around in the wee hours dressed in anything he chose. Bree couldn’t blame him because she found herself in his bushes.

She could, however, blame him for flipping off the light. Not only had he ended the show that was diverting her from her aches and pains, but he’d left her with a problem. She’d been staring into the light and was now nearly blind.

Had he already called the police?

When the door creaked open, Bree decided to play it safe.

“Mr. Josie’s Brother from California,” she called out. “I surrender. I’m not here to rob the place. I just sort of…dropped by for an unexpected visit.”

Her voice echoed eerily through the darkness. Blinking furiously to adjust her sight, she crouched in the shrubs like a sitting duck, unable to hear a thing above the sound of the wind rustling through the branches of an overhead tree and her own aching pulse.

And just when she could finally differentiate the outline of the hedge behind the strings of solar lights, Bree found herself blinded yet again by a wickedly bright flashlight.

Suddenly the man himself appeared, and she hadn’t even heard him coming.

“You’re one of the twins who live in Number One.”

“Guilty.”

He lowered the beam from her face, and she could almost make him out—lots of bare skin and chiseled features. Even half-blinded, she could see the man was even more striking up close than he’d been from far away.

“So what did I do to deserve a visit from such an illustrious person at this time of night?” he asked.

“Illustrious? What did I do?”

“Found the captain’s treasure.”

And here Bree thought she’d made an honest impression. “Actually, my sister found the treasure.”

“Still part of an illustrious family.”

Bree inclined her head. No lie there. “Bree Addison, descendent of Gabriel Dampier, captain of the privateer ship Crescent.”

He shifted the light over the gold spangles littering the ground and grabbed her hand with a strong grip. “Lucas Russell. Number Sixteen. You weren’t kidding when you said ‘dropped by.’”

“Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, and the deep, throaty sound rippled silkily through her.

Surprise, surprise. Adrenaline must be doing all sorts of screwy things, because under normal circumstances, Bree wouldn’t have given this guy a reaction no matter how attractive he was. Not a man who was a carbon copy of those she catered to at work.

With Lucas Russell’s solid grip providing leverage, she cautiously extricated herself from the shrubs. She swallowed back a groan when every muscle in her body throbbed in protest and spangles showered the ground at her feet.

She tried not to think about how she must look with foliage in her hair, in her clothes, in her shoes.

All things considered…Bree had fared remarkably well. No broken bones. One very handsome savior, whether she was interested or not.

Things were looking up.

Lucas helped extricate her from the tangle of her coat and steadied her against him, bringing her up close and personal to a whole bunch of naked man. She found herself distracted from her aches and pains long enough to notice shoulders so broad she couldn’t see around them.

He towered above her, and she wasn’t exactly short. But even more striking was the strength she felt in the hand he kept locked around hers, the warmth of his skin. After all the shocks she’d gotten tonight—both good and bad—Bree shouldn’t have had any energy left to react to this man.

But she was reacting, big.

Especially when he raked his gaze over her. The darkness hid the color of his eyes, but he was clearly inspecting her for damage. She must have looked as bad as she felt, because his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

Lucas, however, looked as good as he felt. At this close vantage, his face was all cut lines and chiseled angles. He was handsome in a very aggressive, male way.

She should have been immune. Damn adrenaline.

“You’re bleeding.” The flashlight beam traveled down her leg.

One glance at the carnage of tattered hose stained with blood and she did groan. “So I am. Guess I’ll say thanks and be on my way. It was a pleasure.”

She moved to extricate herself from him, but Lucas didn’t let go. “Come inside. Let’s take a look at your leg.”

“I appreciate the offer, but there’s no need. Just a few scratches. I’ll live.”

“I’m trained in emergency first aid.”

“Really? Josie said you were the king of a software empire. Do your subjects get hurt working with the keyboard and mouse?”

“I write law-enforcement software,” he said drily. “I spend a lot of time consulting with various national agencies and participating in training so I can target their needs.”

Great. Jude Robicheaux was back in town and she’d run for cover to a man with law-enforcement connections.

Why had she thought she’d been dealt a decent hand tonight again?

Raking her gaze down all that yummy skin, she tried to assess the threat. Any man who rescued a lady from treacherous shrubbery wearing only a skimpy towel couldn’t be all bad, could he?

“Can you walk or shall I carry you?” he asked.

Yummy or not, Lucas was determined to get his way. It was in his almost amused tone, in the grip that assured her he had no intention of letting go.

No surprises here. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“It is. I’m not dressed to walk you home.”

“I’d argue. The neighbor ladies would love watching you parade through the court in your towel.”

He blinked in surprise, and under any other circumstances, Bree might have laughed.

Not tonight.

Like it or not, without knowing why Jude had followed her, she wasn’t all that eager to head home yet herself. About the last thing she wanted was to meet him on her doorstep. Not in her present condition. And definitely not in the dark.

Bree didn’t have too many options right now, and stalling seemed like a good one. If Lucas wanted to play the knight in skimpy towel then she’d be a fool not to oblige.

“Well, then, thank you.” Tipping her gaze to stare into his face, she found herself almost startled again by his sheer maleness. He’d been handsome from across a banquet hall, but up close…“I appreciate the help.”

He only inclined his head in that regal way of the wealthy, as if it was both his privilege and duty to help those in need. Ever the gentleman, he didn’t mention the golden trail of spangles she left in her wake to mark a trail for the squirrels.

He didn’t release her hand while leading her across the yard. She almost smiled at how he managed to look large and in charge while walking through damp grass half-naked and barefoot.

It was in the DNA. Had to be.

He held the door as she slipped inside, then motioned her to a breakfast nook separating the dining room from the kitchen.

“Have a seat while I hunt down Josie’s first-aid kit.”

“Yes, Lucas.” Bree did as he asked, appreciating a chance to admire the back half of him as he strode from the room.

Very nice indeed.

Everything about this man was attractive, she decided, exhaling a sigh that had nothing to do with her bumps and bruises. She wasn’t hurt, not really, just achy and sore from the fall and jittery from too much adrenaline.

Slipping off her coat, Bree hiked up her dress to rig broken threads of sequins so she wouldn’t trash the town house. She’d been inside once before, and even with the huge windows shuttered against the night, Josie’s place managed to be as warm and welcoming as Josie herself.

The spacious rooms were filled with stylish wicker and sunny colors and woodwork painted bright white. Bree thought the look contrasted nicely with the weathered exteriors and ornate ironwork that made up all the centuries-old town houses in historic Court du Chaud.

As she and her sister had only moved into the court last year, Bree didn’t know Josie all that well. They both worked a lot. Bree divided her time between Toujacques and her moonlighting for a local fashion designer, so get-togethers generally happened at homeowners’ association and Krewe du Chaud meetings or brush-bys for coffee in Café Eros, the bistro where her sister worked.

But Bree liked Josie and wished her well in married life. Many of the court’s residents seemed to be getting on with their futures lately. Even Tally had gotten engaged to Christien and bought the nightclub she’d been longing for. Claire and Randy had hooked up. Perry and Jack, too. And after learning about her shot at the head hostess job tonight, Bree had thought she’d been moving on with her life, too.

Until her past had followed her home.

“Found it,” Lucas said when he returned from upstairs.

He’d thrown on sweatpants, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have been so affected by this man if she hadn’t met him when he’d been half-naked.

Probably. The man was gorgeous, all touchable and male. Not at all like Jude, who was almost too pretty to be real. Up close Lucas had the same sable-colored hair as his sister and eyes as bright green. The combination tempered his chiseled features. Otherwise that strong face and drop-dead gorgeous body combined made him almost too male. If such a thing was possible.

Setting the first-aid kit on the table, Lucas sank to his knees in front of her. He hesitated with his hands poised over her ankle and asked, “Do you mind?”

“Have at it.” Lifting aside her destroyed dress, she gave him a bird’s-eye view of the carnage.

Both knees were a mess. Scratches streaked her skin, and blood had congealed on the torn edges of her hose. One particularly nasty branch had carved a crevasse up her thigh.

Lucas frowned and stood again, giving her a tour of that magnificent chest as he grabbed the kit again and said, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the sink.”

Okay, there was no arguing she needed soap and water. She’d come out on the bad end of the dirt and mulch in Josie’s flower bed, so she followed him into the kitchen without comment.

Lucas flipped on a light, deposited the kit on the counter and ran the water. “Take off your stockings.”

“We only met ten minutes ago.”

He laughed. “We need to clean those cuts well or you’ll wind up wishing you did. Trust me.”

“Another lesson learned in law-enforcement training?”

“From my mother.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’m sure she tended lots of boo-boos while you were growing up.”

His expression morphed into a full-fledged smile that softened his features and brightened his eyes and coaxed a reaction low in her belly. A crazy sort of swooping feeling that distracted her from her aches and pains.

“I’d be lying if I said no. Now lose the stockings.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” She made a little humph sound and couldn’t resist giving him a show while slithering her hose out from underneath her dress.

She could feel his gaze on her when she bent over to unfasten her sandals and wondered if he noticed the way her neckline drooped, if he watched her cleavage plump forward. Did he think she was taunting him? Or flirting?

She wasn’t entirely sure which it was herself.

There was something about this man that made Bree want a reaction. Probably nothing more than a need to flex her control muscles after the shock of seeing Jude again.

And she got one.

Lucas grabbed her, strong hands circling her waist. He lifted her up to a seat on the counter and without preamble he brushed aside her torn dress and got to business.

She braced back on her arms, feeling a bit breathless as he cleansed her skin with soapy gauze.

“That feel okay?” he asked.

“I’ll live.”

“So why’d you drop by tonight?”

Questions were inevitable, but she had to give Lucas credit for not starting the interrogation the minute he found her.

“I noticed someone following me while I was walking home from work. It was late, and I’m not exactly dressed to defend myself. I decided to beat a hasty retreat.”

He peered at her from beneath the silky fringe of thick lashes. “So you scaled a wall in a formal gown and high heels? I’m impressed. What kind of work do you do?”

This was another question she’d expected, and Bree wondered what type of work he thought she did.

Evening formal wear. Three in the morning. Dark street. Hmm.

“I work at Toujacques. I’m a VIP hostess.”

“Do you always walk home from work?”

“Not when it’s so late. I normally drive.”

“But not tonight.”

“Not tonight.” She knew he was waiting for some further explanation, but she wasn’t volunteering any. He didn’t need to know that her brother had flown home for the weekend from college and had borrowed her Jeep.

But to her surprise, Lucas didn’t push. He just tossed the filthy gauze in the trash and lathered a new batch with soap under running water. He started working on her other knee and went back to his original line of questioning.

“Did this someone threaten you?” he asked.

“Didn’t give him a chance. Didn’t want to lead him to my front door, either, so here I am.”

Bree expected a lecture on the perils of walking through the French Quarter alone at night. Men like Lucas were invariably throwbacks from the feudal days when the rich and powerful protected the weak and defenseless.

But instead of a warning, Bree got strong hands on her thighs. It was a casual touch—if any stranger’s touch in such an intimate place could really be casual. Perfunctory might be a better description. The thing was…his touch didn’t feel perfunctory.

Even though he only tended her cut, she felt him everywhere. Heat melted through her, and she was so very aware of her parted thighs. Probably because she didn’t wear panties beneath her panty hose, which put this man’s strong hands in very close proximity to some oh-so-bare private places.

“So are you enjoying your stay in New Orleans?” she asked to distract herself from the feel of his hands and to end the discussion about why she’d dropped in for a visit.

“I always enjoy coming home.”

“Josie told me she bought this place from your parents after they retired to Florida. You were reared here?”

“Court du Chaud homegrown.”

Ironic that he’d take off for California when she and Tally had always thought the court would be the best place in the world to live. “Is that why you’re hanging around while Josie and Max are on their honeymoon? Visiting friends?”

“One of the reasons. My parents stayed after the wedding, too. I wanted to see them off. And my sister has me doing some work around here.”

“What sort of work?”

“Cleaning out the attic. My mom’s a pack rat. She stashed memorabilia the whole time we were growing up, then left it all when she moved. Josie’s afraid the fire marshal will condemn the place. Now that she and Max are married, they’re making some decisions about living arrangements, and she wants to make sure I take everything I want in case they decide to sell the place.”

“Couldn’t live without your baseball trophies, hmm?”

“Or the sculpture of Cupid I made Mom in third grade.”

“It’s still around?”

“Give or take a few limbs.”

“I can see why you’d want to save it.”

“Absolutely. Some superglue and I’ve got the perfect Mother’s Day gift.”

Bree smiled. Oddly she had no trouble imagining Lucas as a young boy making sculptures for his mother. Maybe the way he tended her injuries with such a gentle touch made such a caring gesture seem to fit this strong man.

“So tell me, are you the twin I’ve heard singing?” After tossing the gauze into the trash, Lucas fished through the first-aid kit.

“’Fraid I’m going to disappoint you again. My sister’s the singer in the family.”

“Just you and her?”

“Got a musically inclined brother, too. I’m the untalented one of our illustrious bunch. No treasure hunts. No musical talent. The younger twin, wouldn’t you know? Something to do with the gene pool, I’m guessing. Watered things down a bit.”

Glancing up from his task, he dragged his bright gaze over her in a lazy caress. “Untalented?”

“One in every bunch.”

“Scaling a tree in this dress and those shoes? Ever thought about stunt work?”

She laughed. Lucas was proving to be a chuckle a minute, easy to be around for a man she’d just met under some very tenuous circumstances. Bree must really be off her stride after all the night’s shocks. She usually had much more self-control.

But when Lucas patted the antiseptic wipe against her thigh, then blew gently to soothe away the sting, she felt the tingle of his warm breath from the top of her head to her toes.

“Still okay?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” The antiseptic burned, but her awareness of his mouth overrode any other sensation.

She could feel the determination in his touch, but she sensed compassion in the warm burst of breath against her skin. He was a surprise, this one. Bree made her career catering to overindulged rich men who lived life for new challenges. She recognized Lucas as one. No mistake.

But there was something else here, too.

She wasn’t sure what it was. Not the way he’d chosen to play the knight in skimpy towel.

What self-respecting man wouldn’t rescue a damsel in distress?

It wasn’t the way he’d dragged her inside to care for her boo-boos either.

No, Bree wasn’t at all surprised that he’d charged in to save her.

Maybe she was surprised by how glad she was that he had.

2

TOUCHING THIS WOMAN with no hope of making love to her was nothing short of torture, Lucas decided. He cleansed the slash that marred Bree’s skin, an innocent touch that inspired some not-so-innocent thoughts. He wanted to run his fingers up her leg and feel her muscles tense beneath his touch. He wanted to lean over and press his mouth to her thigh and watch her react.

He couldn’t ever remember being so attracted to a woman.

But he’d never met a woman like Bree before either.

She wasn’t what Lucas had expected to find in the bushes when he’d heard noises from outside earlier. Some kid who’d sneaked out his bedroom window for a late-night party on Bourbon Street, maybe. Or a trapped raccoon escaped from the wildlife rescue shelter down the street.

Not this intensely desirable neighbor who was playing hell all over his restraint.

Forcing himself to focus on his task, Lucas stood between her spread knees and tried not to be affected by the sight of her. A lost cause. Not only hadn’t he dated since a Swedish scientist had skyrocketed his libido past the stratosphere, but the way Bree braced back on her hands gave him an incredible view of her gown bunching up around her hips. All that sparkly fabric molded her narrow waist and full breasts, and the pulse beating quickly at the base of her throat made him hope she’d noticed his nearness, too.

Her exotic eyes were as dark as the sable hair that fell in lustrous waves over her shoulders, a rich color that contrasted strikingly with her creamy-gold skin. She had a mouth that looked as if she’d just been kissed, full lips that managed to be as expressive as her flashing eyes.

From the instant he’d seen her at Josie’s wedding, Lucas had thought Bree one of the most stunning women he’d ever laid eyes on. Impossibly beautiful because there were two of her. Her twin was a mirror image, and while he knew there must be differences, he hadn’t gotten close enough to discern them.

Nor had he managed an introduction. With family and friends coming in from far and wide for the celebration, uncles, aunts, cousins and acquaintances who he’d barely recognized had cornered him through the entire reception.

According to Josie, the twin who’d found the treasure had gotten engaged after her adventure. Since his sister hadn’t mentioned anything about this twin’s situation, Lucas didn’t know much about Bree.

He’d admired her from a distance, though, or them, because without formal introductions they were a duo in his mind—the twins from Number One—but from the moment Bree had gazed into his face and her hand had slipped inside his, she’d become the woman who made him respond.

He’d been feeling the effects ever since.

Granted, it had been a while since the Swedish scientist, and he hadn’t met anyone interesting enough to pursue since then. But Lucas knew chemistry, and it was tearing through him right now. He struggled to carry his half of the conversation as thoughts of what he’d like to be doing to Bree distracted him.

Run his hands along her thighs…. Investigate what was going on beneath the hem of her dress…. Find out if she was as attracted as he was.

He couldn’t decide if Bree was flirting with him. She was a beautiful woman who would no doubt be used to men gawking, so he suspected she was charming as a matter of course. Her job as a hostess would demand that.

But Lucas wanted to know more about what had brought her into his backyard tonight. Given the damage she’d endured to her person, she must have been very serious about getting away from whoever had been following her.

He didn’t think this woman would frighten easily.

“So what does a VIP hostess do?” He gently probed her skin, searching for debris. Finding her scratches pink and clean, he tossed the antiseptic wipe and went for the antibiotic ointment.

“I’m guessing you don’t gamble much,” she said.

“Some buddies and I head into Vegas every so often to make a weekend of it. I went to a wedding there once.”

Her mouth pursed in a thoughtful moue, red, ripe and ready to be kissed. “In a nutshell, it’s my job to keep my guests happy so they don’t have to think about anything but spending their money at our tables. I arrange their meals and their schedules. I entertain their families while they’re gaming.”

“Sounds demanding.”

“Sometimes. What a man wants is what he gets.”

There were so many places Lucas could take that statement. Of course, his supercharged libido conjured up images of her stretched out before him much in the way she was right now, thighs parted, breasts thrust forward.

Wearing nothing but a smile.

He knew what he wanted. “Lucky guys.”

She only shrugged.

Running a fingertip down her thigh, he traced the outer edge of a scratch. “We definitely need to cover this one. What do you think about your knees? I’ve got some bandages here that should do the trick.”

Her eyes shuttered beneath thickly fringed lashes as she stared at the scratches, considering. “Please. I’d like to get home without all this greasy ointment on my dress. I’ve done enough damage tonight already.”

“Take it off. I’ll get you a towel. We’ve got neighbors who’d like watching you parade through the court.”

Tilting her head to the side, she sent a wave of glossy hair tumbling over a shoulder as she laughed. “Wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Plenty of thunder to share.”

“Gracious of you. But I’m just glad you weren’t asleep when I dropped in. My luck and you’d have awakened and called the police before I raised the white flag.”

“I’m glad, too.” He met her gaze, drawn to the way those eyes flashed with humor, daring, excitement. Such expressive eyes.

“So tell me, Lucas. Do you always shower so late at night? Or is this early morning for you?”

“Late. I was working and lost track of time.”

“Designing law-enforcement software?”

He nodded. “A job perk. I work anytime, anywhere.”

“Lucky you.”

Lucas agreed. Especially when he got to touch her again, smoothing the antibiotic ointment up her thigh. Her skin was supple and velvety-soft beneath his fingers. Each stroke became an effort of will. He wanted to trail his hands even higher. His blood started a throbbing descent toward his crotch, and Lucas wondered what he’d been thinking when he’d put on these sweatpants. A tight seam right now would have worked.

“What are the other job perks to writing law-enforcement software?” she asked.

Hearing that slight breathlessness to her voice steeled his resolve not to let her see how she affected him, not when she worked so hard to keep him guessing about how he was affecting her. “Owning the company, for starters. I come and go as I please. I touch base with my office staff and my programmers a lot, but that’s what the phone, fax and Internet are for.”

“So you’re a high-tech kind of guy. I’m a little surprised. Josie strikes me as very traditional.”

After watching his sister pursue her new husband through the decades, Lucas wasn’t sure he’d go straight to traditional. “Josie’s more of a people person.”

“Meaning you’re not?”

He shrugged. “I spend a lot of time in the field, getting to know what’s happening inside various law-enforcement agencies. That’s how I learn what they need from their software and how to provide it.”

“You get bored easily, don’t you? You like a challenge.”

There was something in her voice, and he couldn’t pinpoint whether liking challenges was good or bad in her estimation. Either way, he couldn’t deny the charge. “I do.”

“And the freedom of traveling.”

He smoothed a strip of adhesive tape over her thigh, securing gauze over the cut. “Like I said, give me a laptop with a satellite uplink and I can work anywhere.”

And frequently did. One particular bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean came quickly to mind. Then there was a national park where he felt like the only person on the planet. He could think better when his head was quiet, late night or early morning or during the day with nothing but the surf breaking on the cliffs or the wind rustling through the trees.

He’d worked hard to shape his life to his wants, which was why he couldn’t understand when it had all become so routine. Work had been his only salvation from a growing sense of discontent, and when he came across a new interest, there was no avoiding how lifeless everything else had become by comparison.

Bree Addison felt like a challenge.

“Here we go.” He wrapped up his triage with a large bandage over each knee. “Feel good?”

She nodded, sitting up to survey the result. “You’re very good with your hands. Thank you.”

“All in a night’s work.”

She laughed at that, a whiskey-rich sound that filtered through him with a lot more impact than a laugh should have.

Lucas didn’t want to let her go yet. The idea of brewing coffee and greeting the dawn while continuing their conversation appealed, but he had no real reason to keep her here.

He settled for retrieving her shoes, thinking it was sort of a sad commentary on what his life had become that he had to devise ways to keep a beautiful woman with him.

“Allow me.” He reached for a shapely ankle.

“Tell me, Lucas. What did I do to deserve all this five-star treatment? By all rights, you could have sent me downtown for trespassing.”

“And let the police have all the fun of interrogating you? I don’t think so.”

She treated him to that laugh again, a sound as dusky and sultry as the dark outside, a sound that shouldn’t feel physical but did.

Dragging his hand down her ankle, Lucas explored the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingers and hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. Bree had feet as delicate as the rest of her and as well groomed. Her toes boasted perfectly maintained nails in a subtle red shade that matched her manicure.

He slid the sandal into place, then attempted to fasten the strap around her ankle.

“Here, let me,” she said. “You might be very good with your hands, but this is a job for smaller fingers.”

She brushed him away with a warm touch. Her hair swung forward in a silky wave as she leaned over, and Lucas stood rooted to the spot, inhaling a breath that was subtly spicy fragrance and all enticing woman.

With a few deft maneuvers, Bree fastened the strap, then extended her other foot. “Teamwork.”

He only slid on her remaining sandal and let her work her magic while he tried again to gauge whether he was having an effect on her. She seemed breathless, too fast with her answers, so when she finished fastening her sandal, Lucas slipped his hands around her waist and helped her off the counter.

The air charged with awareness. The top of her head didn’t quite reach his nose, so his every breath filled with the scent of her. He fought down the urge to pull her close—one easy move and she would mold sleekly against him, all feminine curves he knew would align perfectly. Her breasts would press against his chest. Her hips would tip and cradle what threatened to become a raging erection.

She raised her dark eyes and peered beneath her lashes. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Bree.” He wanted to kiss her more than he could remember ever wanting to kiss before, but the expression in her gaze stopped him. There was something there…something almost amused, as if she was well aware of the impact of her beauty and expected him to be unable to resist her.

That look dared him to resist.

“I’m glad you dropped in tonight.” By sheer effort of will, he moved away, found even those few inches helped to clear his head. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”

“I’ve enjoyed meeting you, too. Thanks for rescuing me.”

That made him smile. He’d never met a woman less in need of rescuing than Bree Addison. He might have helped her out with some first aid, but as she watched him with those exotic eyes and kissing lips, Lucas knew that this woman was shielding a lot behind the mysterious expression.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

He half expected her to blow off his offer and vanish as suddenly as she’d appeared. But she only said, “Thank you,” and grabbed her coat.

Perhaps she was concerned about heading back out into the dark alone. As she’d proven tonight, Court du Chaud wasn’t a world unto itself. Their court was part of the busy French Quarter that teemed with the lighter and darker sides of life.

Although the idea of her being in danger on a walk home from work disturbed him, he wasn’t unhappy with the result—the chance to meet her.

After pulling on a sweatshirt and shoes at the door, Lucas escorted her into a night where the moon hung low over Court du Chaud, tightly knit town houses that Captain Gabriel Dampier had built nearly two centuries before. The captain had been a comrade of Jean Lafitte and other privateers during a time when New Orleans had needed swashbuckling men who were bold enough to break rules and take chances. Men whose courage and disregard for the law had made them heroes.

Court du Chaud was typical French Quarter, with metal filigree balconies and wrought-iron gates surrounding small front yards. Ornamental lamps spilled golden light into the night along a cobbled walkway.

Neighbors often met in the gardened piazza, chatting around the fountain or relaxing on benches. Older kids tore through on their bikes and skateboards, while younger kids chalked up the cobbles with hopscotch and four squares.

At Christmas the residents erected and decorated a towering tree. At the start of each new year they gathered to shoot off a dazzling display of fireworks. At Easter they hid colored eggs for the kids to hunt. On Fourth of July they picnicked and opened the fire hydrants to cool off.

Court du Chaud was home to Lucas, and it was only now, after leaving for so many years, that he could see it with more objective eyes. A slice of another world in a city that had grown large and often dangerous around it, the court represented another era, a way of life that could feel simple and safe.

Looping his arm through Bree’s, he led her down the walkway toward her house. “Josie mentioned that you and your sister had some work done on your place after you inherited it from your uncle.”

“We separated the town house into two units. Seemed like the smartest thing to do. We had some friends who did the work. Turned out nice.”

“The place is big enough.” Lucas knew that as Captain Dampier had built Number One for himself, the town house was larger and grander than the others. “I earned money mowing your uncle’s yard while I was growing up. He was a character. Used to tell stories about his life as a tug captain. We called him Old Man Guidry. He always said the place was haunted.”

“To hear my sister tell it, the place still is. The ghost of our ancestor.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get too excited. My sister just got engaged. I think too many orgasms are frying her brain cells.”

“I can think of worse things. But people have been saying this place is haunted for as long as I can remember.”

“Have you ever seen a ghost, Lucas?”

“No, and trust me when I say that my old friend Max and I spent our fair share of time looking for one. It’s a court tradition with the kids who grow up here.”

“Chasing ghosts?”

“And perpetrating the myth.”

She smiled. “So that explains all the mystery around here.”

“Some of it. Max and I were definitely on a roll for a few years. Came up with some brilliant stuff. But all the talk of curses started long before we came around.”

“I’m surprised. I took you for Mr. High Tech. I didn’t think you’d believe in ghosts.”

“Didn’t say I did.” Reaching for her front gate, he noticed the wary glance she cast around her yard, as if she expected someone to jump out from behind a tree. “Let’s say I’m keeping an open mind. I grew up here, remember?”

Bree didn’t reply as she reached inside her coat pocket and withdrew a set of keys. Lucas glanced at the house, at the dark windows. A coach lamp on the portico showcased them as they climbed the stairs.

Plucking the keys from her hand, he only smiled when she gazed up at him and asked, “Still rescuing me?”

He shrugged, not sure what he was doing. Bree was putting on a show for his benefit, but he got the feeling that there was more to her story than she had told him.

Nothing seemed out of place in the court. He heard only the wind rustling the trees and the muted sounds of their footsteps as they crossed the portico.

Glancing at the emblem of a security company on the sidelight, he slipped the key into the lock, pushed open the door. What had once been the front door to Number One now served as an entry to the twins’ separate units.

“Same key.” She gestured to the door on the right.

Lucas wondered if he’d get an invitation inside, was struck again by how much he’d like one. But when the security system signaled the opening door with a whining countdown, Bree flashed him a smile he recognized as a goodbye.

“If I don’t see you again before you leave, thanks for the rescue.” Rising up on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek.

He’d been right about one thing—she had a kissing mouth. Her lips were full and soft and warm, and one simple, friendly kiss galvanized him. He barely resisted the impulse to pull her into his arms. With effort, he handed her the keys.

“The pleasure was mine, Bree. Take care.”

She nodded and he took his cue. Her gaze flashed to his for a brief instant as the door shut, leaving him with the image of those exotic eyes and beautiful smile. Lucas waited until he heard the lock click and the inside door close before heading back down the steps.

As Lucas opened the gate, a cat streaked across the sidewalk, clearly startled by the sound of the creaking hinges. He watched it disappear into the hedge around the piazza, then glanced around the courtyard he’d grown up in.

No sign of prowlers. Only reminiscences from his youth were everywhere.

His family coming and going through the years. Max and Nana LeClerc always with them. Josie always noisy and noticeable. She’d burst in on their family when he was seven and she hadn’t stopped talking since.

Age hadn’t subdued his sister’s spirit, but it had taught him a lot about appreciating her. Josie was a caring person with a gift for bringing out the best in people. As a result, everyone in her life loved her.

Now she’d likely move into Max’s place at Number Seventeen. There was no real reason to keep two places—not unless they planned to eliminate the alley between the town houses. With Josie’s social work and college expenses, she might not be flush, but Max certainly wasn’t hurting for money.

But Lucas couldn’t see them going that route. Adding a few walls and a doorway, as Bree and her sister had done, hadn’t defaced the property. Even if historic preservation laws would allow more extensive reconstruction, he couldn’t see his sister tampering with anything that would change her beloved home.

For the first time, the reality of the changing situation hit him. While he’d remain connected to Court du Chaud through Josie and Max, his home wouldn’t be the same. No matter how far away he moved or how long he stayed away, his home was still a familiar and special place. Funny how he hadn’t remembered that until tonight.

Maybe he’d offer to buy Josie’s place and keep it for when he came to town, which he planned to do often now that he and Max had renewed their friendship and Josie had officially made him part of the family. Chances were they’d eventually have kids, and the job would fall to Uncle Lucas to teach his nieces and nephews the ins and outs of life at Court du Chaud so they could keep their parents on their toes.

Just the thought made him smile. He and Max had not only kept his parents and Nana LeClerc hopping, but all their neighbors, too. He remembered tear-assing through the piazza on their bikes after school, popping wheelies around the fountain and almost running down Old Man Guidry, who’d threatened to send his ghost after them.

If Bree’s sister believed a ghost haunted Number One, then she might step in to replace her late uncle. Lucas hoped so. His future nieces and nephews would need a crazy neighbor to torment.

Lucas had no clue what had him so reflective tonight, but by the time he got back inside and kicked off his shoes, he knew sleep was off the agenda. He was heading back to Pescadero at noon and had planned to get up early to pack and ship all the memorabilia he’d collected from the attic.

But when he glanced around the living room filled with mementos his mother had saved to commemorate his youth, he found his enthusiasm to get back to his familiar work environs—which had been mounting steadily since sending Josie and Max off on their honeymoon—had vanished.

Grabbing the phone, he sank onto the couch and dialed a number. His sister’s sleepy voice answered just before the cell phone rolled him over to voice mail. “Lucas. Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just wanted to chat.”

“Chat?” Josie demanded through her drowsiness. “What time is it?”

“It’s after four here. It can’t be that late in your part of the world.”

“Lucas—”

“Get over it, sunshine. You buried me in that attic sorting through our lives. You owe me. And unless I miss my guess, you and Max aren’t doing much sleeping on this honeymoon anyway.”

“Which is why these precious hours are crucial.”

“Don’t want to hear about it. What I want to hear about is Bree Addison.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. “Bree? Did you get a chance to meet her?”

“Tonight.”

“Oh, I’m glad. She’s a sweetie, isn’t she?”

Sweetie? He’d been left more with the impression of a seductress or siren. “Tell me about her.”

Josie took off on a commentary that answered more questions than he’d have ever thought to ask.

“I know Tally better, but Bree belongs to the krewe and I run into her all the time at the café,” Josie explained. “She pops in for coffee a lot.”

Lucas cradled the phone against his shoulder and moved aside a stack of old school photos on the coffee table so he could prop up his feet.

“Okay, so she likes coffee,” he said.

“She and Tally are sharp. I like them a lot,” Josie continued. “I was really glad when Tally got a break finding the captain’s treasure. She’s putting the reward money to good use. I get the impression that neither of them has had an easy road. Not from anything they’ve said, mind you, but they have a younger brother. From what I gather, they’ve been taking care of him for a long time.”

“What happened to their parents?”

“Haven’t heard one word about their father, but it sounds like their mother’s been out of the equation for a while.”

Lucas put these facts together with the provocative woman he’d met tonight. “Know if she’s been at Toujacques long?”

“A few years, from what she’s told me. She works a second job, too, so her schedule is screwy. She doesn’t always make homeowners’ association and krewe meetings.”

“So you roped Bree and her sister into painting floats?”

“Lucas! You know very well that we do more than paint floats. And if you don’t know then I’m not doing a very good job keeping you up on what’s happening around here. Maybe you should try coming home to visit more often.”

Lucas smiled. While living inside the court wasn’t co-requisite with belonging to the organization whose sole purpose was carrying on the legend of Captain Dampier at Mardi Gras, he knew that with Josie at the helm, court residents wouldn’t stand much chance of avoiding membership.

To her credit, though, Josie had done a lot to further the krewe’s involvement in the community. Under her administration, they paraded year-round for charitable causes such as the Big Buddies society and women’s shelters.

“I’ll think about coming home more often if you tell me if Bree’s dating anyone.”

Silence on the other end…then Josie said, “Interested?”

“Just met the lady tonight, sunshine.”

“And yet you woke me up to chat about her. Hmm, what should I make of that? Wait—What?” She directed her question away from the phone, presumably to her new husband.

Sure enough, Max’s muffled voice carried through the receiver, and Josie gave a laugh. “Max said you better run while you still can. He came home to visit and wound up standing in line for a new driver’s license.”

“Tell him not to worry. I wouldn’t move back because I’d have to see his ugly face every day. But you know what? I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you another wedding gift.”

“Ooooh, really?”

“Really. Tell me when and where, and I’ll pinch-hit for you with the krewe. I’ve decided to stay in town a while longer.”

“Lucas!” Josie squealed through the phone, causing him to yank the receiver away from his ear. “Thank you! I’ve been worried about how shorthanded they’d be with me gone. I’m so glad you changed your mind—” She stopped. “What made you change your mind? Meeting Bree?”

He could still hear that sultry voice in his memory. What a man wants…

This man wanted to know Bree Addison better.

“Actually I just didn’t feel like packing the memorabilia. It’s going back up in the attic.”

3

BREE MOVED QUIETLY around her house, more out of habit than necessity. With walls separating her from Tally and Christien, she didn’t have to worry about her odd hours at Toujacques disturbing anyone anymore.

She told herself she was glad. All things considered, life hadn’t changed too, too much with her sister’s engagement. The renovation had been a piece of cake as far as renovations went. The town house had been a split plan to begin with, so a few cleverly placed walls, a new kitchen and doorway had done the trick. She’d been pleased with the effect…until now. Tonight her place felt too dark, too quiet.

Or maybe that was her mood talking.

Pausing in her workroom, Bree stripped off her damaged dress and tossed it on top of her sewing machine. Here’s hoping she could pull this dress back together or else all the money she’d spent on it just went down the drain.

Thank you, Jude Robicheaux.

Fortunately she was a capable seamstress. Working with high rollers meant dressing the part, and since she’d always been too broke to do anything but buy off the rack, she’d honed her altering abilities to a fine edge. She liked sewing and designing her own clothes, too, when she got the chance. In fact, she liked it so much that she’d turned her unexpected skill into a side job that earned her good money.

Still, the split seams had snagged the fabric and broken more than a few strings of sequins. This dress might be too far gone for even her ability.

Forcing her throbbing legs to carry her up the stairs, Bree headed into her bedroom. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and forget all about this roller coaster of a night.

A possible job promotion.

The bad-news ex.

Lucas Russell.

Eventful for sure and not at all what she’d expected when heading out earlier to arrange Mr. Loaded Cowboy from Dallas’s trip away from the faro tables to a visit behind the velvet ropes of the French Quarter’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club.

Her heart still throbbed a little harder than it should. She should shower and let hot water soothe her racing thoughts and soak away her aches, but showering would mean dealing with her bandages. She simply didn’t have the energy.

Lucas had done all the hard work already, so Bree just pulled on comfy jersey pajamas and crawled into bed. Nestling deep beneath the warm covers, she paced her breathing and tried to clear the thoughts snapping through her brain like a ball around a roulette wheel.

But the sound of Lucas’s laughter still echoed on the fringes, along with her breathless thanks when her boss had given her the news about the promotion opportunity.

She could also hear the grinding of rubber over wet pavement, tires turning behind her, pulse throbbing dully in her ears as the sedan had followed her through the dark streets.

Damn, why now? She stood a really good shot at the head hostess job. And she needed the money. While the treasure reward money had raised Tally’s fortunes considerably, her sister shouldn’t be expected to put aside her goals to foot the bills for their family.

She and Tally had been the sole support of their younger brother, Mark, since their mother had gone AWOL. Mark had been only fourteen at the time, and raising him hadn’t been cheap. Both she and Tally had given up college scholarships to work, and Bree would continue covering her share of Mark’s expenses now that he’d finally—thankfully—decided to focus on college.

Tally deserved to spend her share of the money on reaching for her goals and starting a new life with her handsome fiancé. And even more importantly, Bree deserved the head hostess job. She was detail-oriented and worked well with the other VIP hostesses. She knew the ins and outs of the Big Easy better than anyone on the staff. She’d been at Toujacques longer, too.

Except for Lana. And the thought of working for that self-absorbed, ass-kissing former Vegas showgirl made Bree toss restlessly under the covers.

Plumping her pillow, she tried to find a more comfortable position. On her side, and her knees squeezed together and ached. On her back, and her legs extended and her knees ached. Lying on her stomach wasn’t even a consideration.

Finally settling in an awkward place somewhere between her back and side, she tried to convince herself that Toujacques’ big boys would be fair enough to promote the woman most qualified for the job.

She was most qualified. No question.

Everyone knew it. Everyone also knew Lana would feel she deserved the job because she’d been there longer. She’d torture the entire staff if passed over. Everyone knew that, too, which meant Bree’s future boiled down to whether or not the managers wanted to deal with Lana’s tantrums.

Unfortunately Bree understood. Time didn’t exist in the around-the-clock world of big money and high rollers. The casino stayed open 24/7, an active and exciting life but a demanding one. So the absolute last thing Bree needed to do was give the big boys any grief or aggravation.

Jude Robicheaux was always grief and aggravation.

If Lana caught wind of Bree’s former connection to the smooth-talking Cajun con man, she’d have a field day making sure everyone from the French Quarter to Bayou Teche knew about Bree’s not-so-stellar past. After turning her life around and establishing herself in a solid career, Bree could kiss any hope of job advancement goodbye.

Management would be announcing the promotion after their quarterly meeting next week. Why couldn’t Jude have waited one more stupid week before coming back to town?

And what was she going to do now that he had?

Bree had no answers, and with a sigh she turned restlessly again, debating whether or not to get out of bed and tackle alterations on her dress. Or scrub the bathroom, which seriously needed it.

She was only torturing herself by lying here. Sleep wasn’t in the cards tonight. She needed to distract herself. Or talk. Not so long ago, she’d have come home, plopped down on Tally’s bed and spilled her guts.

Now there was a man in bed with her sister.

Bree was thrilled with Christien. Really. Tally was head over heels, and Bree couldn’t have picked a more perfect man. She wanted Tally to be happy, even if her sister had gotten so caught up in the spirit of the treasure hunt that she was taking the whole ghost legend thing seriously. Even if all the time she spent in bed with her new fiancé or at the Blue Note meant Bree didn’t get to see her nearly enough anymore.

Right now Bree needed to hear her sister laugh as if everything was a joke, because it all felt big. Too big. Bree had worked her butt off to put Jude Robicheaux behind her. She was independent now and making something of her life.

Her sister would agree. She’d praise Bree for how hard she’d worked to be considered for this promotion, for how she’d started at Toujacques as a cocktail waitress and worked her way up through the ranks.

She’d remind Bree about how long they’d dreamed of moving into a real home that wasn’t some tiny apartment in a dumpy complex or a prefab rental in a bad section of town.

To Bree and Tally a real home had meant Court du Chaud. Their connection to the swashbuckling Captain Dampier had been the only thing to make them feel special in an existence that often felt weighted with problems and responsibilities. And when they’d finally gotten their shot at owning their own home, it had all felt magical, special.

Tally would tell Bree not to let anything take that feeling away, not to let anyone smack her down again.

She knew Tally was right, but as Bree sat up in bed and stared at the wall that had been skillfully designed to match the old, she wished she could actually hear Tally say it.

WITH HIS EYES TIGHTLY shut, Captain Gabriel Dampier moved through the wall of the bedroom that had once been his in life. After spending nearly two hundred years haunting his former quarters in Court du Chaud, he had witnessed many who’d inhabited these rooms and had no wish to intrude on anyone’s privacy.

Especially this chit’s. She was directly descended from him, and the very idea of chancing across her in a state of dishabille or, heaven forbid, engaged in some intimate activity smacked far too close to perversion for comfort. As much as he wanted Breanne to fall wildly and hopelessly in love, he had already established guidelines for proper behavior with her twin. He would adhere to those rules now.

Neither death nor the passing of generations apparently tempered the familial bond running through his bloodline. He was Breanne’s many-times-removed grand-père. While he might not have behaved appropriately paternally in life—or even been aware he’d sired offspring—he was correcting the oversight in death.

After listening closely for any sounds of movement, Gabriel peered narrowly through half-closed lids to find his beautiful descendent lying restlessly across the bed.

He sighed, relieved, and opened his eyes.

“You are a fool.” A familiar voice startled him.

“Eternal damnation,” he snapped much louder than he had intended, a rebellion against the invisible barrier between the living world and his own. “Must you plague me at every turn?”

“Yes.”

An unnecessary reply to a question he well knew the answer to. This crone had been tormenting him ever since the fateful night he’d been gunned down on his ship. He’d awakened to find himself dead and her his only companion in the afterlife.

Talk about cursed!

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw her ghostly form emerge through the wall, a shawl pulled tightly around her stooped shoulders, a pleased expression on her withered face.

The sum of his life obviously equaled a dismal failure to have earned this woman as an eternal reward.

“Go away. I have no wish to deal with you tonight.”

She laughed, a grim sound that would have raised the hairs on his neck had life still pulsed through his veins. “You should have thought of that before you involved yourself with my granddaughter and spawned a bloodline that we share. I’m surprised you have not yet figured out that death is not about what you wish.”

That much he knew. “You shall not ruin my mood, belle grand-mère. Not when the end is finally within my grasp. Breanne has met a man who sparks her interest. She is all that is standing between me and my eternal peace. I can break your damn curse once and for all.”

“Still so proud, pirate.”

“I am no pirate.” The words fell from his lips mindlessly, a habit from long ago.

But even as his denial faded to silence, he could see a smile split her shriveled cheeks until she reminded him of an apple left too long in the sun.

“Then go about your business. I will not disturb you. I would only savor the joy of watching you fail.”

“Fail? This chit’s twin lies in the arms of her new fiancé. Tallis has placed her love for him above her ambition. The curse you placed on our descendents—”

“You I cursed, pirate. Our descendents I blessed to never know the heartache you heaped upon my beautiful granddaughter.”

Curses. Blessings. A matter of opinion. Gabriel’s only consolation was that by cursing him, this vengeful old grand-mère had cursed herself to share in his fate. Not much of a consolation when he’d had to actually listen to her for two hundred years, of course.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “The curse is almost broken. You should be grateful, so you can finally rest, too.”

“I’d rather watch you fail than rest, pirate.”

“Fail? You seem to have forgotten the new skill I acquired to help me bring Tallis and Christien together.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said in an irritating singsong voice. “I’ve forgotten no such thing. You have every right to be flush with your new skill.”

A compliment? Had he been alive, the hairs on his neck would have been bristle-straight. This woman loathed him. He loathed her, too, truth be told, but she actually had more of a reason. He had been the biggest fool where the beautiful Madeleine had been concerned.

But hadn’t he heard somewhere that forgiveness played a part of death?

Sheer stubbornness forced Gabriel to turn away and pretend to ignore her. He would not ask what she meant because he knew she wouldn’t tell him. No forgiveness with this one. She would only reveal herself when she knew it would stab like a knife, and he’d entertained her far too often with his failures to doubt that. He wouldn’t let her see that her words had hit their mark. And honestly, he wasn’t all that confident of his ability to help Breanne overcome her ambition.

Even in sleep his granddaughter’s aura gleamed the dull gray of one who would never know any true emotion. She’d wandered through life in pursuit of ambition, restless in spirit and unfulfilled by her goals, never experiencing the plunging despair that made the heights of happiness all the more sweet.

And Breanne was only one in a long line of descendents he’d watched suffer the same cursed fate because of his selfish actions. When all was finally said and done—and it would be—he wondered if there would be much forgiveness among any of them.

To his credit, though, Breanne also had him to thank for remaining in one piece after her stupid stunt in the yard of Number Sixteen tonight.

Not that she knew it, of course. Spirits had no substance in the living world. A fine thing, too, since had he been of corporeal form, he would have broken his bloody neck saving her when she’d fallen off the wall. But he had managed to cushion her fall—a fine feat.

Generally, spirits could not appear to the living. Apparently only those old enough or powerful enough could learn to summon matter and affect the living world. It had become rather a race between him and the old crone to see who could sharpen their abilities best.

So Gabriel had practiced summoning his strength to bridge death to the living world. It was draining business, to be sure, but he continued to prevail and proudly added new and useful skills to his repertoire.

His proudest achievement thus far had been fully materializing to Tallis and her fiancé.

That had been the only reason he’d finally convinced Tallis to recognize how precious love was. But Breanne was even more headstrong than her sister, and until tonight there hadn’t even been a potential male around.

But Gabriel had seen the way her aura had sparked off Lucas. Lucas’s aura had sparked right back.

These two had the potential to share a truly great love. Auras never lied, and he’d grown quite sensitive to reading the nuances of energy that radiated off the living.

“What shall I do with you, Breanne?” he asked aloud, almost forgetting the old woman who watched him. “Aha. I know.”

He would start by whispering suggestions while she slept.

Yes, the helpful man in Number Sixteen is very handsome.

Yes, he had been a gentleman to bandage your wounds and see you home.

Yes, the sparks had flown between you.

Yes, you want to see him again.

Gabriel sat on the bed beside Breanne, leaned close to her ear and summoned his strength to materialize so she could hear him speak….

Nothing happened.

He felt no echo of the life that had once pulsed through his veins, no stirring of the heart that had once beat in his chest. He felt no rush of the air through his lungs.

Puzzled, he inhaled deeply—another habit of old that had no place in the afterlife—and tried again.

Nothing.

He heard the crone’s laughter.

Amazing how he could feel fear chase up his spine. “What have you done to me?”

“I have done nothing.”

“I appeared to Tallis. And Christien. They could see and hear me. Why can I not now? Is this some new trickery of yours?”

“You credit me with too much power, pirate. And yourself.” She held up her hand dismissively when he opened his mouth to argue. “You did nothing special to appear to our Tallis. You delude yourself in death the way you did in life. In all these years of haunting you, I still cannot fathom what my darling granddaughter ever saw in you.”

Shaking her head, she sent lank white hair whirling around her face. “The curse gave you the ability to appear to two people. Only two people. It was your chance, pirate.”

Two people?

The twins.

It made such coldly logical sense that Gabriel couldn’t believe he hadn’t guessed sooner. Instead he’d appeared to Tallis and her lover and had prided himself on gaining enough power to take a ghostly form again.

Damn his pride!

Nearly two hundred years spent haunting this court. Nearly two hundred years denied his eternal peace. Denied any peace when he stared at the horrible old crone who had been his only companion. Nearly two hundred years to atone for his sins.

Nearly two hundred years and he’d learned nothing.

“You tricked me,” he cried. “You set me up to fail.”

“I only cursed you. Your failure is your own.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Do not despair, though. Perhaps if you practice materializing as hard as you practice your other parlor tricks, you may be able to manage the task in another century or two.”

Which was how long it would take before another set of twins would be born into this family.

She blew him a kiss and stepped back through the wall, and with her laughter still ringing in his ears, Gabriel stared down at the bed where Breanne moved restlessly. He was so close to breaking the curse, to ending this eternal limbo…and all he had to rely upon were parlor tricks.

ALTHOUGH MONTHS HAD PASSED since Bree had joined Krewe du Chaud, she still hadn’t decided why she’d become a part of this organization. It certainly wasn’t to hand over her hard-earned money paying steep annual dues.

But Josie hadn’t given her much of a choice. The acting president had been pretty strong-handed about the whole thing. A bully, really.

When you move into a court that’s a huge part of French Quarter history, Josie had told Bree in a tone that left no room for debate, it’s your duty and responsibility to keep the legend alive….

Blah, blah, blah.

Tally, of course, had jumped in with both feet. No surprise there. Tally had been enamored with the krewe since they’d been kids, standing on the streets as the captain’s floats had passed by in the Mardi Gras parade.

Bree had never understood her sister’s obsession with all this historic family tradition stuff. It was sort of cool to bring up the connection in party conversation, but Bree had never found it much use otherwise.

Being descended from the captain certainly hadn’t done anything for their mother, who’d spent her life—was probably still spending her life, as far as any of them knew—trying to capitalize on the connection with her alcohol-induced get-rich-quick schemes.

Only Tally had ever managed to change her fortune. And she’d been on quite a roll lately, and Bree wished some of her luck would rub off.

After last night, Bree could use it.

Scooping up her mail from the floor in her foyer, she locked up the house and headed out into the bright afternoon. She walked through the alley past Café Eros, inhaling deeply of all the wonderful smells emitting from within. Beignets. Coffee.

After a night spent tossing and turning while visions of Jude Robicheaux and Lucas Russell warred through her subconscious, she’d awakened feeling as if she’d been run down by a riverboat.

But she had a problem to solve, so she’d gone online to the sheriff department’s Web site to confirm Jude’s status.

He did still have an active warrant, which meant he wouldn’t surface openly. She couldn’t decide if that would bode good or bad for her.

Today wasn’t the best of days for a krewe meeting, but Bree knew the distraction would do her good. Otherwise she’d be sitting at home, alternately debating what to do about Jude and remembering how tingly she’d gotten when Lucas had touched her.

So stepping into the busy street, she flagged a passing cab. She hopped in, gave the driver the address of the krewe’s den on the river and skimmed through her mail as they wove through Canal Street traffic.

Bill, bill, overdue bill…hmm, what was this?

Lifting up the plain white envelope, she scanned her name and address in computer-generated text. There was no return address or any postmark, which meant the sender must have hand delivered the letter to her door.

A chill skittered up her spine, and she had the wild impulse to tear the envelope to shreds and toss the pieces out the window to scatter through the streets like so much confetti during a Mardi Gras parade.

Oh, please don’t let Jude know where she lived!

Lifting her gaze to glance at the cabbie, who didn’t seem to notice the earthshaking anxiety happening in his backseat, Bree inhaled deeply to dispel the sensation.

With the thought of a ruined pair of seventeen-dollar hose steeling her resolve, Bree opened the envelope to find a single sheet of copy paper and more of the same computer text.

A vanishing act, gorgeous? Is that any way to welcome back the love of your life?

Blood rushed to her head only to drain away just as quickly, leaving her clammy, dizzy and nauseous.

Two sentences, but the message was crystal clear.

You can run but you can’t hide.

Arrogant bastard probably thought she couldn’t resist him—prize catch that he was.

And the humiliating part—once upon a time she couldn’t.

Damn man looked like a dark angel with that inky black hair and those crystal eyes. He knew it and used his looks to disarm stupid young women who hadn’t yet learned that the inside of the man was a lot more important than his yummy chocolate coating.

But in all fairness to her, while Jude’s looks had first attracted her, his looks hadn’t been what had sucked her deep into his life. That had been all about being taken care of. Jude had spotted her weak spot and had exploited it.

Bree had been a shamefully easy mark.

After their mother had gone MIA, Tally had stepped up to the plate and taken control of the situation. Bree had let her. That was the natural order of things. Always had been. They’d chosen to postpone college and rear Mark to keep him from being farmed off into foster care.

But life hadn’t been easy, and when Jude had shown up, he’d seemed like an answer to her prayers. He’d flashed and dashed her big-time, bought her clothes and paid her bills and helped out with Mark’s expenses. He’d shown her a lifestyle of fancy restaurants and expensive shopping sprees that had dazzled her into blindness about his character.

At eighteen, Bree had thought Lady Luck had been smiling all over her. By the time she’d started questioning whether that luck was good or bad, she’d already known the answer deep in her heart.

And had been in way over her head.

God, why had she ever been stupid enough to get involved with that man?

Bree already knew the answer. But now she had the answer to another all-important question.

Jude wasn’t here for revenge. He was playing the romance card. He wouldn’t have let her know he was back otherwise. Whatever he wanted from her—and he wanted something, no question—he intended to use their history to get it.

Relief burst through her, so sudden and hot she grew flushed in the close confines of the taxi. She could scratch revenge off the list, and a part of her wasn’t surprised.

Bree honestly didn’t believe Jude would ever hurt her. The man was an opportunist, a con man. Not an abuser. He expected to control her and would try to bully her if he didn’t get his way, but as dysfunctional as their relationship had been, he had once claimed to love her.

And Bree believed he had—as much as he could love anyway. He’d honestly expected her to leave town with him when his last con had gone south. He’d thought all his money and promises to solve her problems would replace her family.

But keeping her family together had been the whole reason to deal with the problems.

Jude hadn’t understood that. His idea of love was unconditional devotion. If he loved and cared for her, then she should devote herself solely to him. Bree shuddered to think what her life might be like now if she’d continued down that path, if he hadn’t gotten in trouble with the law, forcing her to choose between her family and him.

Lady Luck had been shining on her after all.

So then why was he back now?

Then she remembered Lucas’s words upon finding her in his shrubs. You found the captain’s treasure.

Had Tally’s illustrious treasure hunt brought a rat out of the woodwork?

While she honestly didn’t think Jude would ever physically harm her, she knew he wasn’t above using her for his gain.

Bree was so lost in thought that when the cabbie said, “Hey, lady, you going or you want to sit here with the meter running?” she nearly jumped out of her skin.

A glance proved they’d reached their destination. Feeling stupid, she paid the man and hopped out of the cab.

Krewe du Chaud shared valuable warehouse space on the river, compliments of a generous member who owned a shipping business. The man didn’t actually live in Court du Chaud but was a long-standing aficionado of anything and everything Captain Dampier.

Bree felt edgy, like an open target on the street. She didn’t want to wait for someone to answer the buzzer and open the front gate to let her in, so she circled the building to get out of the street.

Resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder, she maneuvered the narrow concrete alley between the warehouses toward the river. She scanned the wharves for any signs of unwelcome faces, and finding no one around, she bypassed the back entrance and headed to the water.

With a foot on the slimy seawall stairs, she knelt carefully and pulled Jude’s letter from her bag.

Love of my life…not in this life!

She tore the paper and envelope into tiny pieces and let them float down onto the muddy water for the fish.

If Jude thought he could intimidate her, he had another think coming. She needed to go to the police. Even though Jude hadn’t actually done anything, there was a warrant out for his arrest. The police definitely would be interested that he was back in town.

They’d be so interested that she’d get dragged into the precinct station to file a report and answer questions. They’d send officers to Court du Chaud to question her neighbors about whether anyone had seen Jude hanging around.

That scene wouldn’t be pretty. Tally would start worrying. Christien would want to help and likely use his police connections to have every cop in New Orleans keep an eye on her. Josie would wind up finding out and doubling up the Neighborhood Watch shifts.

She might even mention the trouble to Lucas, and for some reason Bree didn’t like the thought of him learning about her past, even if she wouldn’t see him until his next visit from California.

Then there was Toujacques and the promotion announcement next week….

Argh!

Even if she reported Jude anonymously, Bree knew she’d be at the top of the list of people the police would track down to interrogate. Since she’d issued official statements, they’d also be thinking revenge. All she didn’t need was for Lana to get wind of this.

“Is everything all right, Bree?”

The voice made her jump—tetchy today, wasn’t she?—and she had the mocking thought that this man’s voice probably shouldn’t have been so familiar after only one conversation.

Not only was Lucas’s voice familiar, but hearing it brought a sense of calm she had absolutely no business feeling. Suddenly her heart didn’t pound quite so hard and she didn’t feel so all alone on this busy riverbank.

Glancing over her shoulder, Bree found Lucas showcased on the wharf above her. He wore clothes today. His well-worn jeans rode low on trim hips, and his sweatshirt hinted at the muscles of his toned body below. Despite the clothes, she could still envision what he looked like in his towel.

After last night, that image was burned into her psyche.

“Playing the knight on the dock today?” she asked, her best defense a good offense.

“Only if the damsel needs rescuing.”

“She doesn’t, thank you.”

His gaze followed the bits of paper littering the water, and with the bright sun throwing his chiseled features into sharp relief, he looked as if he didn’t believe her.

But when he extended his hand, Bree took it, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the jolt she got when his warm fingers closed around hers.

He helped her to her feet. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little sore, but I’ll live. So what are you doing down here?”

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