Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(19)

She nodded, but her eyes were on his face, almost as if she couldn’t look away. “Good, use that accent. But don’t you dare call me chère or honey or baby or anything but Lisa or Ms. Daley or Girl I’m Not Interested In. You know what, don’t call me anything at all. Go away.”

He sighed as she started to walk away again. “Chèr…Lisa, come on. Let me give you a ride. We’re going to the same place.”

She turned on him so fast he almost fell back on his ass. “No. No, we’re not because you’re going to move. I was there first. I call dibs.”

What the hell? “You can’t call dibs on an entire building. I signed a lease. I can’t break it now.”

At least Charlotte Taggart had. He jogged and managed to get in front of her. He’d dug himself a deep hole and now he realized he’d lied. Not interested? Bullshit. She scared him. She reminded him of Josette. Josette, who’d always been too smart for him. Josette, who’d convinced him she could be happy staying in Papillon Bayou.

Josette hadn’t even liked walking into Guidry’s, much less would she have been caught behind a bar. He was being an asshole who was putting punishment on a woman who hadn’t earned it.

“What can I call you? Because Lisa is pretty, but I’m a Cajun and we live to call women pet names. It’s in our natures. And I’m sorry about what I said to you those months back. The truth of the matter is you scare the hell out of me and I reacted poorly. Please forgive me.”

She stared at him. “I scare you?”

Yep. She did then and she did now, too. Even with her face glowing like a damn disco ball and half a strip club buffet still somehow hanging on her, she was the most tempting thing he’d seen in years. “You scare the shit out of me, chè…woman I lied about not being interested in. The trouble is I’ve always known I was going home. That’s why I’ve kept all my relationships light. When you walked up to me that day, well, I knew you weren’t the type to have a one-night stand, and that’s about all I do.”

“Because you don’t want to hurt someone?”

It was good she understood. “That’s right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Or because you want to sleep with as many women as you possibly can. Do you think we don’t hear that excuse from the time we’re old enough to come in contact with a player? Hey, baby, you’re gorgeous and beautiful, but I’m all wounded and shit so I can’t touch something as lovely as you. What? You want to heal me through some sex. It probably won’t work. I can’t even think about a relationship that lasts past tomorrow because of all my wounded bullshit, but if you’re sure, then hey, let’s do this thing. Yeah, heard it all before.”

He sighed. “I’m not trying to play anyone. I’m not. I never used any of those lines on you. I acted like an idiot because I had no idea how to handle you.”

She stiffened in the moonlight, her shoulders squared and rigid. “You handled it fine. You were honest.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I wasn’t honest, and even if I had been being honest, I wasn’t kind.”

“I haven’t known many men who cared much about kindness.”

“Well, then you haven’t known me.”

She was silent for a moment, as though trying to decide what to do. She sniffled. “Did you order the daiquiri?”

He felt himself frowning. “Yes.”

A humorless chuckle came from her throat. “Of course you did. You’re the whole reason I left the bar. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have a job right now. I would have a place to be. I would have a home that hadn’t been invaded by an asshole. Why? Why did you order that fucking daiquiri? And think long and hard before you lie to me.”

Shit. His first instinct was to tell her, damn girl, NOLA boy loves himself a daiquiri, but there was something wicked in that girl’s eyes, something desperate that told him she needed to be handled with care this evening and that while he’d thought he was being honest with her before and that hadn’t worked, honesty was definitely required now. “I was curious. My family owned a bar, you see. I grew up in one an hour and a half south of New Orleans. We owned the bar and the wharf attached to it. I consider myself an expert. I was working before I could drink. The sheriff would look the other way. He didn’t care that I would help my pop-pop out as long as I wasn’t sampling the merchandise. I’d watched you all night and you looked like a woman who could handle herself, but there are tests.”

She touched her chest with her free hand. He didn’t mention that it caused something to fall out of her hair. “My daiquiri was perfect. Fucking perfect, asshole. I even made my own syrup. I was great for that job and you came in here and fucked it up for me.”

There was something about hearing those filthy words coming from her pretty mouth that settled him. She’d always been polite around him, so ladylike, but there was a genuine woman in there and he’d hurt her. He’d been less than kind and he hadn’t meant to be that. “Lisa, I’m sorry, but that is not the place for you. You don’t belong there, chèr…damn it. You don’t belong there, ma crevette.” My little shrimp. He couldn’t help it. It was what he did when he was being affectionate, and she did have a shrimp hanging on her shoulder, though it wasn’t petite. Cherry Pies believed in jumbo sizes for their crustaceans. “Let me take you home. Please. I’ll call around and I swear I’ll help you find another job tomorrow if that’s what you need. I know some people. That’s what you need, right? You need a job?”