Bayou Payback. Joanna Wayne

paths that meandered through watermelon-red azalea blooms, lush greenery and sparkling fountains.

      Fake stars diminished the silvery glow of moonlight but didn’t dim the serene beauty. But when Lee took her hand, his grip felt tense.

      “You’re not acting like a man who’s just been showered with accolades,” she said. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

      “Just police business. Nothing to cause you worry.” Lee grew silent and a second later dropped her hand and picked up his pace so that she almost had to run to keep up with his long stride.

      They passed a couple who were so engrossed in each other that they barely wasted a glance on Lee and Nicole. Obviously, the garden’s magic was not lost on them as it was on Lee.

      Nicole’s mind wandered back to the stranger. Her reaction to him was both disturbing and puzzling. It was if he’d tilted her world and loosed titillating sensations that had lain dormant for the past eight years.

      Everyone in New Orleans had their own Katrina story. Nicole was no exception. But she was still alive, and like most of the others, she’d picked up the pieces and moved on.

      But there were still the occasional moments when she experienced a yearning for what she’d lost, an ache so strong it consumed her. But never until this evening had she felt as sensually excited as she had with Andre.

      That was surely a good sign, even if the feelings had been stirred by a man she’d likely never see again.

      She was about to ask Lee if he’d talked to Andre, when Lee took her hand and tugged her to a stop in the dark shadows of a huge magnolia tree. The fragrance of the enchanting white blooms was intoxicating.

      Lee’s arms circled her waist and he pulled her closer. She looked up and met his gaze. There was an intensity in his stare that she’d never seen before.

      “What is it, Lee?”

      “You know how I feel about you, Nicole.”

      She swallowed hard, suddenly realizing why he seemed nervous and dreading what was coming next. She knew what he wanted from her. They’d talked all around the subject. It wasn’t unreasonable. And yet…

      “I don’t think we should go there again tonight, Lee.”

      “I think we have to, Nicole. We’ve been friends for years. We’ve dated for months. It’s time to move our relationship to the next level. I can’t keep fighting my feelings for you.”

      “I realize that.”

      “You trust me, don’t you?”

      “Yes, of course I trust you, but I need more time, Lee. You said you understood.”

      “You’ve had eight years, Nicole. It’s not time you need. It’s just the courage to let someone into your life.”

      She knew Lee could be right. Even Deanie kept insisting that she let go of the past and open herself to the future.

      “Move in with me, Nicole. Give me a chance to make you happy.”

      The proposition made her chest constrict until her breath seemed to be trapped inside her. “I can’t make a decision like that on the spur of the moment.”

      “Then at least go home with me tonight, Nicole. I need you. I want you with me.”

      He put a thumb beneath her chin and tilted her face upward so that their lips were only inches apart. She stepped into the kiss, aching to feel a sensual onslaught that left her dizzy with passion. At this point she’d settle for even a hint of what she’d felt with Andre.

      There was nothing.

      “I can’t. I’m sorry, Lee, but I can’t.”

      His arms dropped to his sides and her rejection drew his lips into thin, tight lines. When he spoke, his words had a clipped, cutting edge to them. “If that’s the way you want it, but you can’t expect me to wait forever.”

      “I never asked that of you.” She’d never asked anything of him.

      He loosely linked his arm with hers. “I really should get back to the party now.”

      They walked in silence. Well-wishers gathered around Lee even before they climbed the steps to the veranda.

      She left him to his admirers, called a taxi and went back to her condo. For all she knew, she’d just killed her relationship with Lee.

      But when she crawled into bed alone, it was the stranger with the whiskey-colored eyes who tiptoed into her mind and stayed around for her dreams.

      IT WAS THIRTY MINUTES past midnight when Remy finally pushed away from the desk in his hotel room. He’d spent the past three hours staring at his findings, which never fully solved the puzzle of exactly how deep Lee Barnaby had been involved in the pre-Katrina police corruption. Weary, Remy stood, stretched and then walked to the window.

      He’d chosen an old hotel on the outskirts of the French Quarter, not for its quaintness or its reasonable price but because he liked the way the pace here slowed to a skulking crawl.

      The bars were not as noisy as the ones on Bourbon Street. The inhabitants were an eclectic mix of cultures, socioeconomic levels and gender preferences. He could easily go unnoticed here.

      But it was another part of the city that called to him tonight. Remy headed to his truck and took the short drive to an area that had taken the brunt of the flooding when the levies were breached.

      What-ifs tormented his mind as he drove the once-familiar streets, finally stopping in front of the hospital where Carlotta had worked as a nurse. She’d loved her job.