Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(10)
He ducked his head to get a better look. “Good to see the old part of Galveston survived Hurricane Ike.”
“No kidding. You should have seen the place right after the storm, though. It was like being in the French Quarter after Katrina.”
“Hmm.” He considered her comment as a possible opening for him to confess. “You were in New Orleans during Katrina?”
“No, but I grew up there. My uncle still has a townhouse in the French Quarter, so I went to help him and Aunt Alli with the cleanup.”
“Really? What a coincidence.”
“Why’s that?”
“I live in New Orleans.”
“You’re from New Orleans?” Her voice lost some of its friendliness. “What part?”
Glancing over, he found her eyes narrowed with something that could have been suspicion. Had she recognized him? No, he didn’t think so.
Why would she turn wary at the mere mention that he lived in New Orleans? She was the one who’d brought it up.
Whatever caused that look in her eyes, he needed to be careful. Maybe wait until they were at the restaurant and had ordered dinner before he spelled everything out. That way she’d have to listen to him plead his case.
He thought fast for a way to answer her question that wouldn’t be a lie. If he admitted he’d grown up in the French Quarter, it wouldn’t take long before she uncovered the whole truth. An answer sprang to mind. “My family lives in the Bayou Lafourche.”
“Lafourche?” The wariness vanished. “Are you Cajun?”
“Ah, mais oui,” he said, drawing on the limited amount of French he knew. “Well, part Cajun on my mother’s side, anyway. My father’s from Texas. Any Cajun in your family?”
“Sadly, no. Just a big dose of straight French.”
“Classy.”
“That’s what they say.” She rolled down the window to let in the early evening breeze along with the sound of people, traffic, and horse hooves on pavement as a carriage full of tourists jangled by.
He watched as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes to soak in the sounds and scents of Galveston. His gaze dropped to the tempting curve of her neck, and longing nipped at him. Oh God, he sent up in silent plea, give me strength.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “do you miss New Orleans?”
“Not really.”
“Surely you must have plenty of family there.” He knew damn well she had family there. One of the wealthiest, most influential families in Louisiana.
“Maybe that’s why I don’t miss it.” The lips she’d painted a glossy red turned into a teasing smile.
He looked at her in surprise. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”
“Let’s just say, I wouldn’t trade my new life on Pearl Island for anything.” Straightening, she pointed to a large parking lot. “Pull in here.”
He turned the car into a paved lot bordered on three sides by palm trees and bougainvillea as orangey-red as the sky at sunset. The weathered wood building that rambled along the wharf-side looked like a mishmash of sheds with rusty metal roofs.
“Don’t judge it by the outside,” Chloe said as she raised her window. “It’s actually really nice inside. And the food is awesome.”
“No worries. I happen to like places with character.”
“Me too,” she said, clearly pleased.
As they stepped from the car, seagulls cried and dipped overhead. The tang of the bay mingled with the scent of butter, garlic, freshly baked bread, and perfectly cooked seafood. “It certainly smells promising.”
Inside, white tablecloths and flickering candles offered elegance amid a rustic décor. The clatter of diners enjoying their meals underscored the noise coming from the open kitchen. The hostess led them through the crowded indoor dining areas to the covered deck that extended over the harbor. Piers stretched to either side, with boats of every variety bobbing in the slips. None of them commanded more attention, though, than the Elissa, a three-masted barque moored beside the Texas Seaport Museum.
Despite the ship’s majestic presence, Luc’s gaze went straight past it to the museum. The necklace currently resided there, locked away in a display case along with all the artifacts from the excavation of the Freedom, the ship that had gone down in the cove at Pearl Island. Visiting the museum had been his first stop after arriving in Galveston. He’d wanted to confirm with his own eyes that the pendant Chloe had found really was his grandmother’s. Standing before that glass case, seeing something that meant nearly as much to him as it meant to his grandmother, he’d felt a tug of need and frustration.
The same frustration pulled at him now, to be so close yet unable to even touch it. As far as the museum and the State of Texas were concerned, the priceless object was “on loan from the private collection of Chloe Davis.”
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”
“Huh?” He jerked his gaze away from the museum to find Chloe smiling up at him.
“The Elissa.” She gestured toward the restored sailing ship docked beside the museum. “She’s one of Galveston’s star attractions.”
“I can imagine.” He saw the hostess standing by a table, waiting to seat them, and motioned for Chloe to precede him.