Be My Baby (4 page)

“Kind of overwhelmin’ at first, isn’t it?”

Juliet looked up at Beau as he stopped at his car and opened the passenger-side door for her. “How long does it take to become accustomed to it?”

“I’m not sure you ever do. I was born here, and I’m still not entirely used to the summer heat. Watch y’head, now.”

Juliet lowered herself onto the buttery leather of the wide bucket seat and tucked in her skirt as Beau closed the door. She ran an appreciative hand along the glossy forest-green paint job outside the rolled-down window. She’d always wanted a kick-ass car like this. Instead, she drove a sedate Mercedes sedan her father had picked out for her. Yesterday she’d been too upset by the myriad unfolding events to notice details, but now, as Beau rounded the long expanse of the hood, she looked around with interest, taking in the meticulously kept interior, the small wooden steering wheel, the plush carpeting beneath her sandals. Too bad it wasn’t a drop-top.

The wistful little thought made her sit up straighter. Good grief, was she actually sitting here like some starry-eyed high school girl, relishing the notion of catching a ride in a fast car? She was thirty-two years old and she’d ridden in limousines, taken the Concorde to Paris. This was hardly
the Batmobile, for God’s sake—it was just a low-slung, well-kept old car. Big deal.

She felt its power vibrating up her spine the minute Beau started the engine. “Nice car,” she said but offered the compliment in cool tones to disguise—to him, to herself—how very much she liked feeling all that energy surging beneath her.

“This is not a
car
, sugar, it’s a ’69 Royal Bobcat GTO.” Beau stroked the dashboard fondly. “This baby’s a classic, a testimony to the genius of Detroit.”

“Ah, well, forgive my ignorance,” Juliet said and then murmured unthinkingly, “Lordy. Boys and their toys.”

He turned his head to look at her, and she found herself pinned to her seat by the look in those heavy-lidded dark eyes. “I’ve got other toys I could show you, dawlin’. I’ll even let you play with some of ’em, if you ask me real nice.”

She was embarrassed to realize she’d actually spoken her thoughts aloud, and was eaten alive with curiosity as to whether he meant what she thought he meant. But…surely not. Just in case he did, however, she elevated her chin and gave him a cool, discouraging glare down the length of her nose.

He merely grinned at her, his teeth very white against the swarthiness of his skin. Then he was suddenly leaning over her, his face only inches away, his chest brushing hers as his left hand slid down her right arm and fumbled around her hip. Juliet shrank back into the seat, her heart pounding. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Gettin’ your seatbelt.” He seemed to be addressing her mouth, but when she licked her lips in nervous reaction, he gave his head a slight shake. Black brows snapping together, he raised his gaze to meet hers. Then he clicked the seatbelt around her and settled back behind the wheel to regard her with a quizzical little half-smile. “Why, Miz Juliet, whatever did you think I was doin’?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.” Oh, for heaven’s sake, if she were any stiffer they could surf her to Havana. The damn guy seemed to have an effortless and unnerving ability to reduce her to truly idiotic utterings.

“I’m a sworn officer of the law, Rosebud—you wouldn’t want me to willfully break an important statute by drivin’ off with my passenger unbuckled, now, would you?”

“Oh, no, Beauregard, we certainly wouldn’t want that.” She couldn’t believe that sarcastic tone was coming from her mouth, but he pushed buttons she’d never even known she
possessed
, and she couldn’t bottle it up to save her soul.

“Didn’t think so. Relax that spine a little, sweet thing, and enjoy the ride.” He eased the stick shift into first gear and roared out from beneath the porte cochere, barely slowing as he approached the street.

Hot, humid wind blew through the windows as they raced out of the neighborhood, and cool jazz wailed from the speakers the instant Beau punched on the stereo. The car’s engine throbbed with leashed power at every traffic light that forced it
into idle, and Juliet found herself doing exactly what he’d ordered: enjoying the ride.

She held back strands of hair that were being worked loose by the wind and took in the Southern live oaks that passed in a mossy blur as the car sped down the boulevard. She turned to look at Beau. “Are the trees on the median strip as ancient as they look?”

“This is N’Awlins, dawlin’,” he said with a quick grin that slashed creases next to his mouth. “We don’t have medians here, we have neutral grounds. But, to answer your question: yeah, probably, dependin’ on your definition of ancient. Those aren’t the oldest oaks in town, but they’re still over a hundred years old.”

The wide boulevards soon gave way to the narrower streets of the Quarter. Juliet gazed out the window with interest as Beau cruised up and down the streets looking for a place to park.

There was litter everywhere and the air was alive with music. It was an old area of low, mostly brick buildings, narrow alleyways, and filigreed ironwork. It had a definite European look, and with the lack of skyscrapers one could almost imagine they were in the 1800s…except for all the strip joints, fortune telling stores, and sex shops that lined the narrow sidewalks.

Beau found a parking spot and pulled in. He helped her out of the car a moment later and, wrapping his long fingers around her wrist, immediately set off down the street. Juliet had always considered herself sophisticated, but she saw neckties in one window that were shaped like penises,
a voodoo parlor with an exhibit case that seemed to be filled with dried animal parts, a porn shop that displayed objects whose use she couldn’t even begin to determine, and she wanted desperately to slow down and give everything a closer inspection. It was all she could do not to gawk.

But there weren’t all that many people on the street during the height of the afternoon heat to observe her. And Beauregard seemed preoccupied with reaching some undetermined destination. Given both of those factors, she cautiously indulged herself. The establishments’ doors all stood wide open, and smoke and music poured out. Up ahead on the sidewalk a chalkboard advertised in quite graphic terms the live sex show going on inside. She’d never even dreamed such things
existed
, and as they passed by she lagged in Beau’s grip just a bit to see if she could catch a peek.

She was still gazing back over her shoulder when he pulled her through the entrance of the establishment next door. Her pupils dilated in the sudden dimness, and the smoky haze that swirled down from the ceiling made her sneeze. “Excuse me,” she murmured, rooting in her clutch for a handkerchief as she sneezed again. She was vaguely aware of a bluesy instrumental with a strong downbeat that was heavy on the horns playing over the speakers. Beau led her to a stool at the bar and seated her. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.

She discovered a woman with impossibly large, bare breasts, squatting on a pair of spike-heeled shoes right in front of her. Juliet’s head reared back
as the woman’s knees suddenly spread wide, exposing her crotch, which was clothed only in a gold sequined G-string that seemed to provide less coverage than the three limp, folded dollar bills that sprouted from it. The woman braced her hands on her knees and her bottom raised slightly as she swiveled her hips in a small bump and grind that was compellingly lewd. Dear God, this was a strip joint.

How utterly fascinating.

J
osie Lee checked her lipstick, then tilted her tiny compact this way and that as she fluffed her dark curls. The elevator eased to a stop on the second floor and she snapped the compact closed, tossing it in her shoulder bag as the doors slid open. Tugging down her top, she took a deep breath. This was it.

For as long as she could remember she’d been in love with Luke Gardner, but he’d never regarded her as anything other than his partner’s kid sister. Well, that was about to change. She had a window of opportunity here while Beau’s new assignment kept him out of the office, and she was about to take full advantage of it. She was making her move.

God, please don’t let me throw up
.

No. She could do this. She sucked in air through her nostrils and blew it out through her mouth, then patted the dampness from her palms against the linen skirt covering her thighs.
It’s do or die,
girlfriend; put up or shut up. You can do it
.

The moment she saw Luke, with a phone pressed to his ear and hunched so far over his desk that his shirt stretched taut over his shoulders, her nerves disappeared. She still got that whole-body hot and flushed feeling she always felt around him, but the fear dissolved like a discarded Sno-bal on a sizzling July banquette, as old-timers called the sidewalks. This was the man she’d spent what felt like forever praying to St. Frances of Rome over—figuring as she had with teenage fervor that if ever there was a saint who knew a little something about waiting, it was F of R. Josie Lee had been scared to death Luke would find someone else before she had a chance to grow up. He hadn’t, thank God; at least not anyone with any staying power.

Well, she was all grown up now, and through with patiently sitting back, waiting for him to take notice. If he failed to do so this time, it wouldn’t be because she’d lacked the courage to launch a campaign. Taking yet another bracing breath, she set out for his desk.

Only to ease it out again anticlimactically when she was intercepted by another of her brother’s fellow officers.

Luke cradled the phone receiver to his ear with one hand and bent over his desk, rummaging through its clutter. Where the hell was his notebook? Finally locating it in a place he could have sworn he’d already checked, he rapidly thumbed through pages of cramped writing until he reached the right entry. He read the pertinent information to the cop on the other end of the line and leaned
back in his chair…where he found himself at eye level with a woman’s round backside.

Whoa. Very nice. He grinned, enjoying the sight. The desks were crammed together and the woman leaned on her palms on McDoskey’s desk right in front of him. She was bent forward in earnest conversation, an action that stretched her beige linen skirt snugly across shapely hips and caused its already short hem to raise a fraction higher. A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and Luke looked over to see Bettencourt pushing back in his chair to also get a better look at the woman. Their eyes met for a moment and they both grinned. Luke blew out a breath and thumped his hand rapidly over his heart, miming his appreciation. Then his attention returned to the woman, where it remained riveted while he answered the questions put to him at the other end of the line. Man. That was one sweet butt, but it was the legs that truly caught his attention: they were world class. He wondered who she was.

He felt as if someone had taken a baseball bat to his solar plexus when she turned her head and he saw it was Beau’s baby sister.

Christ. Josie Lee was just a kid. Well, maybe not a kid, he supposed, since she’d just graduated from Tulane and must be—what?—twenty-two now? But still. Beau had taken him aside last night and asked him to keep an eye on her while he was out on assignment. Luke was pretty damn sure ogling her ass and legs wasn’t what his partner’d had in mind.

The detective at the other end of the line asked
a question, and from his impatient tone Luke deduced this wasn’t the first time the inquiry had been put to him. “What?” he said blankly. Then he shook off his unusual lapse in professionalism. “I’m sorry, something came up here that diverted my attention for a moment. Give that to me again.”

He watched Josie Lee straighten. She said something to McDoskey that made the detective laugh, then she turned and strolled around Luke’s desk as he concluded his conversation. He recradled the receiver just as she arrived.

“Hey, Luke,” she said softly and flashed him the killer grin she had in common with her brother. “Long time no see, huh?”

Luke could see that McDoskey was still watching her, his eyes faintly dazed. For some reason it irritated him and he said brusquely, “Hey, Baby Girl.” Beau called her that sometimes, and Luke knew it annoyed her.

She merely gave him an inscrutable smile, however, and hitched herself up to perch on the corner of his desk. Her short skirt slid up her thighs as she crossed her legs.

He pulled his gaze away from the mesmerizing swing of her uppermost leg and raised his eyes determinedly to her face. “Uh, this your first day on the job or you just stoppin’ by to fill out the paperwork?”

“No, I started this morning. I’m on my lunch break and thought I’d run up to say hi to Beau.”

“He’s out today.”

“Yeah, I remembered that while I was talking to McDoskey.” She shrugged and slowly rotated her
sandal-shod foot in first one direction and then the other. He noticed that her ankles were slim and her toenails painted red. Then her enthusiastic tone pulled his attention back to her face. “I think this job’s going to be so great, Luke. It turns out Camilla’s best friend’s sister-in-law’s brother-in-law is married to my boss.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Don’tcha just love this town?”

Luke felt a slight smile tug up the corner of his own mouth. There was nothing New Orleanians loved so much as their gossip and their intrafamily connections. This was probably the largest city in the world to revel so fiercely in its small-town mind-set.

“Well, listen,” Josie Lee said, and sliding off the desk, she reached out a finger and trailed it down Luke’s forearm. “I’m sure you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say hi. I’m so excited about the job and was simply dyin’ to share it with someone. I’m glad you were here.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “See you around.”

Unable to prevent himself from watching the swing of her hips as she walked away, Luke rubbed absently at the streak of heat that lay just below the skin of his forearm and wondered what the hell had just happened here.

“Why, Beauregard Butler Dupree, as I live and breathe! I couldn’t believe it when Tommy said you were lookin’ for little ole me. To what do I owe this honor, sir—you finally gonna break down and take me out for a night on the town?” The skimpily clad, busty blonde waitress who’d suddenly ma
terialized out of the bar’s smoky gloom glanced beyond him to Juliet. “Oops, I guess not, huh? Or you prob’ly wouldn’t a dragged along your date.”

“Who, this?” Beau feigned incredulity as he looked from the waitress to Juliet and back again. “This isn’t my date, Dora, dawlin’, this here’s my…”
What, genius?
He could hardly claim “sister” because Dora was a friend of the older sister of one of Anabel’s friends and she’d know better. “…Cousin Juliet from up North. Say hi to Dora Wexler, Cousin Juliet.”

“Hello, Dora, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You
know
I’m savin’ all my lovin’ for you,” he assured the waitress. Actually, she was just his type; he didn’t know why he hadn’t asked her out already.

“Oh, I’m just sure you are, sugar.” Dora ran a blood-red, inch-long fingernail down his stubbled cheek and rubbed her breast against his arm as she leaned past him to say to Juliet, “Rumor has it that Beauregard here was the only sixth-grader in all of Orleans Parish with a five o’clock shadow, Juliet—did you know that?”

Beau felt Juliet’s gaze like inquisitive fingers against his perpetually shadowed jaw; then her attention went past him to the waitress plastered to his side. “No, I hadn’t heard that,” she said in her well-bred voice. “But then our branches of the…family…haven’t always been close.”

Dora found innovative ways to press against him as she pursued the conversation. “Is this your first trip to the Crescent City, then?”

“I’ve been to New Orleans before, but only
briefly. It’s my first visit to the French Quarter.”

“No shit? The Quarter’s where you’ll find all the action, hon. But I guess you’re findin’ that out. Tommy, there”—Dora’s chin hitched in the direction of the bartender laconically swabbing down the far end of the bar—“tells me y’all caught the show. What’d you think a that?”

“It was…interesting.” A slight smile suddenly tilted the corner of Juliet’s lips. “Quite truthfully, unlike anything I’ve ever before seen. I found Boom Boom LaTreque, in particular, quite amazing.”

“Aren’t those ta-tas somethin’ else again? And the really amazing thing is that they’re gonna be all hers in just three more payments.”

Beau shifted in his seat. It was too damn hot to have a woman draped all over him, and Dora’s perfume was growing cloying. Why the hell was Juliet being so gracious? He’d thought for sure that narrow little nose of hers would be high in the air. At the very least, he’d expected a bit of condescension when she spoke to Dora—whereupon he could sit back and watch the fur fly when Dora ripped her a new one. Damn. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen. It was time to quit playing around and get down to business.

He peeled Dora off of him. “I’ve heard Clyde Lydet is a regular here. I need to talk to him.”

She regarded him sulkily. “I thought you came in to see me.”

“And so I did, sugar. But I’m also on the job, and it’d be remiss of me to neglect it strictly for my own pleasure.”

The music started up, presaging a new act, and Dora raised her voice to be heard over it. “So why are ya draggin’ your cousin around if you’re so all-fired professional?”

“An excellent question,” Juliet commended the waitress and turned an inquiringly raised eyebrow on him. “Why are you dragging me around?”

“Why, Cousin Juliet, you little ol’ tease, you.” Noticing a lock of hair that had almost worked itself loose from her tightly pulled back ’do, he leaned close to hook it with his finger, flashing her a big ole wolfish grin when her predictable recoil tugged it free. The liberated tress immediately swelled in volume and grew surprisingly wavy. “What a card y’are, pretendin’ you’ve forgotten how insistent you were to watch me in action.” He wrapped the hair around and around one finger and rubbed it absently with his thumb as he look over at Dora. “She’s such a kidder. I tried telling her I had work to do, but would she listen? No, ma’am. She kept beggin’ me and beggin’ me to bring her along, rhapsodizing on and on about what a golden opportunity it would be to observe the best at work.” He gave a modest shrug. “What could I do?”

“Actually,” Juliet said coolly, “I believe it was
you
who touted yourself as the best. And I don’t recall begging to go anywhere with you. Let go of my hair, Beauregard.”

He unwound the strands from his fingers while Dora commented wryly, “Y’all aren’t exactly kissin’ cousins, are ya?” The thought seemed to please her.

Beau’s gaze went unerringly to Juliet’s full, unpainted lips. Why, the situation practically
demanded
he capture a little taste, and he found himself leaning toward her. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t say that at all.” This was strictly in the name of the cause, of course.

“Well, I would.” Juliet slid out of reach off the far side of her barstool and stood facing them, her posture erect, the errant curl dangling down over her eye. “Dora, you’re an exceedingly perceptive woman. Now, excuse me a moment, won’t you? I’ll just go fix my hair.”

“She hates to get mussed,” Beau murmured, but his self-congratulatory smile faded when Juliet disappeared down a dim hallway and he realized he’d been watching her every step of the way. He turned to Dora, all business. “Here’s my card. I’m going to write down my cell and my home phone number on it, too. I want to hear from you the minute Clyde Lydet shows up. It’s important, Dora.”

Then he gave her a grin. “Why don’t you give me your home number, too, sugar, and I’ll give you a call as soon as this case is over. We’ll get together.”

He exchanged lazy, flirtatious comments with the waitress and watched the newest stripper until Juliet reappeared. The instant she materialized out of the gloom, he rose to his feet, ready to leave. And if there was an inexplicable sense of relief in seeing her hair all skimmed tightly back into place again, he didn’t address it.

Cousin Juliet, say hi to Dora. Say hi to Charleen, Cousin Juliet
. Juliet gazed stonily at the scenery flashing by as Beau raced his precious GTO through the city streets.
Hey, Tammi Mae. Meet my Cousin Jules
. What she wouldn’t give to tell Lil’ Abner here what she thought of his aw-shucks routine.

At first it had been amusing, but it had rapidly palled. There had even been one reckless moment in the last bar he’d dragged her to when she’d nearly smacked her palm against a portion of her anatomy an Astor Lowell never even
mentioned
, and invited him to
Kiss this, Cousin Beau
.

But of course she hadn’t.

Her control should make her proud: she had remained true to her breeding, to Grandmother’s upbringing. So why did she feel so sour instead?

They rolled to a stop at a red light, the threatening grumble of the GTO’s pipes the only sound to break the silence that had permeated the car ever since they’d left the Quarter. Beau looked over at her. “Hey, Rosebud, you’re awfully quiet. ’Course, you’re always quiet, but”—he studied her with bogus concern—“you’re also lookin’ a mite flushed.” His thick lashes lowered as his gaze dropped down to study her thighs, and Juliet’s flush grew deeper when she followed his gaze and saw how they were outlined by the humidity-limp material that stuck to them. Then he brought his gaze back up to her face and gave her a slow, lazy smile. “This is the Big Easy, dawlin’—you gotta learn to leave those pantyhose in the drawer.”