more comfortable position. His erection had gone down and her body was more relaxed, pliant. “No. His wife gave him a daughter, but she died from a fever before she turned two. Since then she has had several miscarriages, thereby leaving him without a legitimate heir.”
“Is Etienne Fouché wealthy?”
“Very,” Preston confirmed. “He’d bought out a neighboring planter and is now the owner of the largest sugarcane plantation in St. Bernard parish.”
“How is Etienne’s relationship with his wife?” Chandra asked.
“They’re cordial. Theirs is a marriage of convenience. Madame Fouché is what one could call homely, so her father offered Etienne a sizable dowry to marry his daughter. Madame Fouché, who has an aversion to sex, is overjoyed when her doctor tells her that her husband must not share her bed again. She spends most of her free time entertaining the wives of other planters and/or spending the summers in Europe to escape the heat and fevers that claim thousands of lives each year.”
Sitting up straighter, Chandra turned to stare up at Preston. “You’ve made Etienne a gentleman farmer who derives his wealth from slaves who grow and process white gold.”
“The geographic location and family background are key elements of the backstory. I could’ve easily made him a professional gambler, but how would that work for Josette and her mother? A gambler who could win or lose a fortune with the turn of a single card. And if he found himself without funds, then he would use their home as collateral. I know you don’t want to touch on the slavery issue, but remember we’re dealing with free people of color.
“As the writer I’m totally absorbed in the lives of the characters until the play is completed. Then it becomes the director’s responsibility to get his actors to bring them to life on stage.”
Chandra swiveled enough so that she was practically facing Preston. “Do you know who you want to direct Death’s Kiss?” A smile softened his mouth, bringing her gaze to linger on the outline of his sensual lower lip. “What are you smiling about?”
“I’m going to write, direct and produce Death’s Kiss.”
“Total control,” she whispered under her breath.
Preston’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you have a problem with my decision, C.E.?”
Silence filled the room as Chandra boldly met his eyes. Missing was the warmth that lurked there only moments before. “It’s your play, Preston, so you can do whatever you want with it.”
“It’s not only my play, Chandra.”
“Who else does it belong to, if not you, Preston.”
“Pascual is your character.”
“And Death’s Kiss is your play,” she countered. Chandra pushed to her feet. “I’m going to head home now. Based on what you’ve told me about Etienne and Josette, I’m going to have to revise my first impression of Pascual.”
Preston knew Chandra was smarting about his decision to write, direct and produce the play. What she didn’t understand was that he knew his characters better than anyone, and he hadn’t wanted to explain their motivation to a tyrannical director who insisted on having his way. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to bite his tongue so as not to lose his financial backing.
He moved off the chaise. “Don’t stress yourself too much. It will probably be another month before we flesh out the entire cast of characters.”
Nodding, Chandra turned and walked out of the office. “I’ll see you tomorrow at two.”
“I’ll be downstairs.”
She entered the kitchen, pushing her feet into her shoes before reaching for her suit jacket. “Dress is casual.”
Resting his hands on her shoulders, Preston turned Chandra around to face him. “Thank you for coming. I really enjoyed your company.”
Chandra was momentarily shocked into speechlessness. Preston thanking her for her company spoke volumes. Despite his brilliance, fame, awards and financial success, Preston J. Tucker was a private and a lonely man.
A hint of a smile parted her lips when she stared into his fathomless dark eyes. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Preston didn’t want Chandra to leave, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself and communicate that to her. “I’ll call the driver and have him bring the car around.”
Going on tiptoe, Chandra touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”
They shared a smile as she slipped her hand into his. They were still holding hands during the elevator ride to the building lobby and out onto the sidewalk where the driver stood with the rear door open.
She slid onto the rear seat and waved to Preston. He returned her wave before the driver closed the door and rounded the Town Car to take his place behind the wheel.
Chandra turned to stare over her shoulder out the back window to find Preston standing on the sidewalk. His image grew smaller and smaller then disappeared from view when the driver turned the corner.
A knowing smile softened her mouth when she shifted again. I like him. “I like him,” she repeated under her breath, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.
Chapter 7
Chandra maneuvered her car to the curb of the high-rise, tapping lightly on the horn to garner Preston’s attention. He was dressed in a lightweight, navy blue suit, white shirt and black slip-ons. Her eyebrows lifted slightly when she spied the two small colorful shopping bags he held in his left hand.
He rounded the car to the driver’s side and dipped his head to peer through the open window. “I’ll drive. I do know how to get to Paoli,” Preston added when Chandra gave him a quizzical look. Reaching in, he unlocked the door, opened it and helped her out. Three inches of heels put the top of her head at eye level. His penetrating gaze took in everything about her in a single glance: lightly made-up face, luxurious dark brown hair secured in a ponytail, black stretch tank top, matching stretch cropped pants and high-heeled mules. He brushed a kiss over her cheek. “You look very cute.”
Heat feathered across her face with his unexpected compliment. She’d changed her outfits twice. When she’d gotten up earlier that morning, the mercury was already sixty-eight, and meteorologists were predicting temperatures to peak in the mid-eighties. Chandra much preferred the Indian summer weather to the near-freezing temperatures because she knew it would take her a while to adjust to the climate change.
Her eyes met Preston’s as the skin around his penetrating gaze lingered briefly on her face before slipping lower to her breasts. “Thank you.”
Preston’s lips parted in a smile as he reached over with his free hand and tugged gently on her ponytail. “You’re quite welcome.” He led her around the Volvo, seated her and then retraced his steps once she’d fastened her seat belt.
He took off his suit jacket, placing it and the shopping bags on the rear seat. Sitting behind the wheel, he adjusted the seat to accommodate his longer legs, noting that Chandra had already programmed her trip into the GPS.
“What’s in the shopping bags?” Chandra asked when Preston maneuvered into the flow of traffic.
“It’s just a little something for your nieces.”
She frowned. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
Preston’s frown matched hers. “I couldn’t show up empty-handed.”
“Yes, you could, Preston. You’re my guest.”
“That may be true, but I feel better bringing something. After all, it’s not every day someone turns thirteen. Your nieces are no longer tweens, but bona fide teenagers. And I’m willing to bet they’ll be quick to remind everyone of that fact.”
Chandra’s