Big Easy Temptation (The Perfect Gentlemen #3)(26)

She wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. “No. I’m not saying that. I’m saying I’m not ready. I need some space. You knew you were coming back into my life. You’ve been thinking about this and planning it for months, but this is all a shock to me, Dax. Everything has been neat and tidy in my life and you’re the hurricane that could blow it all away.”

Her words kicked him squarely in the gut. She was right. He’d been plotting for months, and not once had he reached out to talk to her. He’d done that on purpose so he could surprise her, keep the upper hand . . . see if he could glean her real feelings. Holland didn’t work like that. She wasn’t a leap-then-look-later girl. She needed to think about things. She wouldn’t feel safe until she’d mulled the options and possibilities completely. As much as her answer frustrated him, Dax knew Holland wasn’t trying to force him to her will. She was simply being who she was. She was smart and methodical, but once she made a decision she stuck with it.

He cupped her chin and forced her gaze up to him. “Holland, I’m sorry. I pushed you when I promised I wouldn’t. Can you forgive me?”

Tears shimmered in her clear blue eyes as she nodded. “It wasn’t like I didn’t respond.”

“But you weren’t ready,” he replied. “Let me be plain with you. I want you, and not for some one-night stand. I want to try something lasting. I think we could be spectacular together, but I want you to feel the same way. So take the time you need. Ask me any question you want to. Test me out. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled her into his arms but kept the touch light, comforting.

“We’ve always been friends,” she said as she sighed and held on to him.

Friendship was important to her. She’d lost one of her best friends. While he wanted to be more than pals with her, the fact that she was including him in her circle was meaningful, and he would take it. “We’ll always be friends, Holland. No matter what happens.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Spencer.”





FIVE




Dax breathed in the humid air as they stepped outside the restaurant. Night had fallen, which brought out the crowds in the Quarter. The streets were always crowded, but after the sun went down . . . the real party began.

He glanced up and down the avenue, scanning for any hint of the paparazzi. Traffic congested the street in front of them, the cars traveling from south to north. The east/west streets were closed in the Quarter for foot traffic, and that seemed to agitate the people who’d been foolish enough to drive. Honking and revving of engines filled the air.

“You said it was only the one picture. That means one photographer,” Holland pointed out. “We were in there for a long time. He’s probably moved on. I’ve heard Brad and Angelina are in town. They’re way more interesting than you, buddy.”

She had a way of bringing him back down to earth.

“Well, I’m sorry to drag you into it anyway.” Perhaps she was right. It had only been the one picture. That didn’t mean a horde was waiting to descend, especially since Mad and Gabe weren’t with him.

Holland smiled his way. Feeding her seemed to have vastly improved her mood. “It’s all right. I looked really good in that pic.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She looked gorgeous always.

Jazz music, loud and heavy, blared from the various clubs and bars that dotted the street.

“Looks like a crazy night,” Holland said with a shake of her head.

“You’re the one who actually lives here. How do you manage it?”

She gave him a breezy little shrug. “My grandmother left me her apartment. I couldn’t possibly sell it. Who doesn’t want to live over a real New Orleans voodoo store?”

He could think of many people. Including himself. “Anyone who doesn’t want to listen to tours every hour of every day.”

He happened to know that the voodoo store she lived above was rumored to have been frequented by one Marie Laveau, queen of NOLA voodoo. Informational tours stopped by several times a day.

She simply waved off that nuisance. “The good news is my grandmother had the place soundproofed. All the glory and fun of the French Quarter. None of the retching sounds. Or daily tourist information. It’s a great place to live. Everything I could possibly need is right here. You’re just a rich boy from the Garden. You can’t handle a real party.”

Had she forgotten who the hell he was? “Oh, I assure you, some of the parties I’ve been to would curl your toes, little girl. I went to Maddox Crawford’s twenty-first birthday party. I have no idea how we ended up in Tijuana. We started out at a nice restaurant in Soho. It’s a mystery.”

She shook her head and settled the strap of her laptop bag on her shoulder. “The rich are truly different. We’re three blocks from my place. Are you heading home?”

“Not until I see you to your door.” He was going to take every damn minute he had with her. He refused to leave her side until he absolutely had to, especially after finding out the press was on to him. He wouldn’t leave her to face that by herself.

“I would point out that I’m carrying a gun, but I think the gentlemanly thing is nice.”

“Hell, sweetheart. I’m not being a gentleman. I can catch a cab over at your place. I’m expecting you to protect me.” He winked.