As he revved the Harley and maneuvered through the streets to the Interstate, Adrienne held on with all her might, the rumble of the engines echoing through her, Seth’s deep steady breaths reassuring her and his strong body shielding her from the wind.
She felt a new sensation. Her mind tentatively explored it just like her eyes explored the long, sinewy muscles of Seth’s arms as they controlled the powerful beast beneath her.
The sensation was vaguely familiar, like a long-for-gotten memory. She felt alive. She’d been numb for so long that her mind and her body felt like limbs that had been asleep. Prickly, aching, but alive. When had she last felt alive? Not in years. Certainly not since she’d realized how her father had betrayed her by forcing her to marry Marc DeBlanc.
Adrian Caldwell hadn’t held a gun to his daughter’s head, but he might as well have. Adrienne had always done her father’s bidding, just as her mother had. So when he’d told her that Marc DeBlanc would make a fine husband, she hadn’t questioned him.
After only a few months of marriage, Adrienne had fully realized what her father had done to her. She hadn’t married a young, successful lawyer; she’d married the infamous and legendary Cajun mob. DeBlanc was mob boss Jerome Senegal’s lawyer.
The first time DeBlanc slapped her was the last time he had touched her. Adrienne had agreed to play the perfect wife and hostess in public, but she’d moved out of his bedroom. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to mind. Eventually, she’d found out why.
Lost in bad memories, Adrienne was surprised when the motorcycle’s roar died. She looked around. They were beside Lake Pontchartrain, in the shell-covered parking lot of what appeared to be an old Cajun house on sticks.
Seth pulled off his helmet and chuckled.
She felt the ripple of his abdomen and her insides thrilled.
“You’re going to have to let go, princess,” he said over his shoulder.
She looked down. She was still holding on to him with all her might. “Sorry.”
He climbed off the Harley and held out his hand to her. She let him help her off. Then she took off her helmet and looked up to find him staring at her.
“My hair is a mess, I know.” She reached up to smooth it back into its bun, but he stopped her.
“You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, I think.” She gave him a wry smile and pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “What is this place?”
“It’s called T-Jean’s. They have the best crawfish on the Pontchartrain, or so I’ve heard.”
They walked across the crunchy parking lot and over the rickety bridge to the house. The place’s only concession to commercialism was a big metal crawfish with dozens of Mardis Gras beads hung around its neck and dangling from its claws.
With a finger, Seth hooked a bracelet made of purple and green and gold beads. “Here. Hold out your hand.”
When she did he slid the bauble onto her wrist, right beside her Lady Rolex. She laughed and fingered the beads. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“It’s not a diamond tennis bracelet, but it goes with the decor.”
“It’s beautiful,” Adrienne said, an odd sadness swelling in the back of her throat. The worthless string of beads was probably the only gift she’d ever received that hadn’t been picked out by a secretary or a hired buyer. For that reason alone, it was worth more to her than Seth would ever know. She would treasure it beyond diamonds or pearls.
The raucous sound of a Zydeco band swelled as Seth pushed open the creaking door.
Adrienne stopped, disoriented, waiting for her eyes to adapt to the dark. The place was lit only with lanterns that bravely shone through the smoky interior. The band’s noise filled the room, but nobody seemed to be listening to them. People dressed in everything from ragbag throwaways to cocktail dresses sat around, talking loudly over the music, drinking and eating. The smell of spice and fish pervaded the air.
Seth put his arm around her waist and urged her forward. Bending, he whispered against her ear. “We’ll go out on the deck, where it’s quieter.”
Adrienne leaned a little closer to him. Everything he did, from a casual touch on her wrist to a breath of air against her ear, to a laugh that rippled the muscles of his belly, streaked through her the same way, stirring desires she had forgotten she could feel. Other people touched her hand, whispered to her, but Seth’s touch was different. He made her feel safe and cherished.
She was afraid to examine her feelings too closely. A dose of reality would come soon enough, she knew. Nobody was ever what he seemed.
Folks glanced up as they passed, but paid little attention to them. Out on the deck, with the door closed, the music was muffled.
“Allô, cher, what you be having?” a frizzy-haired waitress asked.
Adrienne looked around for a menu, but Seth spoke right up.
“Crawfish and beer.”
“I don’t drink beer,” Adrienne said, but Seth just laughed.
“You do today,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking out over the dark, calm waters of the lake.
Adrienne looked, too. The shack was tucked into a corner of the lake lined with mangrove trees. A warm breeze lifted her hair and carried the smell of rain, although the sky was clear and blue. She heard some sort of animal grunt, then the flapping of wings caught her attention as a flock of white birds took to the sky.
She reached up automatically to rub her neck and realized it wasn’t aching. She arched it and shrugged her shoulders. She’d lost at least some of the tension that had become a part of her. She glanced at Seth’s strong profile. How had a motorcycle ride done what thousands of dollars in massage therapy had failed to do? She smiled and shook her head.
“Tuppence for your thoughts, princess.”
She laughed shyly. “I was just noticing that the knot in my neck is gone. I should hire you to be my masseur.”
His hazel eyes glinted amber in the sunlight. “I think we could come to terms.”
Chapter Three
Adrienne’s mouth grew dry. Her careless remark about Seth massaging her neck had backfired on her. After Seth’s response, she couldn’t stop thinking about his hands and how they would feel massaging other parts of her body. They were big and graceful, with long blunt fingers that looked so incredibly strong but could touch so gently.
Desperate to wipe away the erotic image of him caressing every inch of her body, she searched for something to say. “How do you know this place?”
His mouth curved into a slow grin. She wasn’t fooling him a bit. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It surprised her how little that bothered her right at this moment. She had already dared more in the last twenty-four hours than she ever had in her life. She liked this carefree feeling. She could get used to it.
“I like to sample the local cuisine wherever I go. You know, conch in the Caribbean, eel in the Loire Valley, beef in Kansas City. Someone told me T-Jean’s had the best crawfish in the world. I wanted to find out for myself.”
“You’re an interesting man, Seth Lewis.”
Seth looked at Adrienne. She’d given up trying to smooth her hair and he was glad. It had fallen out of its constraining knot and now framed her face with sun-struck gold, making her look more like an angel than ever.
“Not so interesting, actually,” he said, distracted by her loveliness. Her body had been anything but angelic during the torturous motorcycle ride, with her breasts pressed against his back and her hands and arms squeezing his middle. He’d had a devil of a time controlling his reaction to her closeness. If she was an