Cajun Spice

Cajun Spice

A Red Hot Cajun Nights Story

By

Desiree Holt

Cajun Spice

Copyright 2015 by Desiree Holt

Published by Desiree Holt

Copyright 2015 Cover Art by Carey Abbott

Editing and Formatting Services by Wizards in Publishing

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Daisy Karr rolled her suitcase out of the terminal at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, her jaw set, her stride determined. It was Mardi Gras time in New Orleans, a city she’d always loved, and disaster was not going to ruin it for her. She’d been looking forward to this trip for weeks. All the reservations were made. A fiancé who’d betrayed her and turned out to be a crook wasn’t going to ruin it for her. In fact, she’d brought along the credit card they’d shared, figuring if it hadn’t been cancelled, she’d use that to cover everything on the trip. It would serve him right, wherever he was.

That was another part of the problem. Her erstwhile fiancé, Craig Myers, the man she shared a condo with and expected to marry, had disappeared barely ahead of the federal agents who’d showed up. Yesterday—a day of blackness—he was still at their condo when she’d left early in the morning. She’d assumed she’d see him at the investment firm where they both worked before too long. What a shock she’d been in for. Craig never showed up but the FBI did, to arrest him. Arrest him? And were they ever pissed off because he wasn’t there or at home. He’d told her he had a stop to make on the way to work, and she said she’d see him later. Ha! That was the last she saw or heard of him. He never called her, never even texted. The closed-door session in the senior partner’s office where she’d been grilled at length by the feds then given the axe by her boss had been the frosting on the cake. After all, they’d said, she worked there as an accountant, so of course she’d know how to siphon off money and move it around. And who better to do it for than her supposed fiancé?

Well, damn it all, she was the injured party here. She’d sat in their condo—no,
his
condo—all night, trying to process everything that happened. Wondering where she’d live now? The condo was in his name.
We don’t need to pay for two places, Daisy. And mine is so much more in line with our goals. I’ll take care of you, Daisy.
Yeah, some taking care of. Well, finding a place to live was one more thing she’d have to worry about, right after she tried to get another job.

She’d stared for a long time at the tickets for New Orleans and the Mardi Gras brochure. Craig had been enthusiastic about it. He said he’d been to the city a number of times, never got tired of its charm, and wanted to show her the excitement of the famous celebration. But he had split one day before their scheduled trip, and by dawn, she’d made up her mind to take the trip alone. She deserved something for all this misery and humiliation he was putting her through. The sick feeling at the way her life had turned upside down rode on the plane with her all the way from New York. She needed to get away from this mess and try to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

Making her way up the jetway, she’d decided for the moment not to waste her time obsessing over what happened. She’d been a fool and an idiot, now without a job and maybe homeless, but Daisy had never been one to let life defeat her. Her first order of business was to put everything behind her, or at least as much as she could. When she got back, hopefully in a better frame of mind after a few days of Mardi Gras, she’d assess her situation and make some decisions.

As she progressed through the terminal, with every stride, her determination grew. It was Mardi Gras time, the biggest party in the world. Mardi Gras! She’d been looking forward to this for so long. Her life might be in the toilet, but right now, she planned to stuff it all in a closet and try to have some fun.

She’d been so sure Craig, with his starched shirts and three-piece suits, had been the answer to stability for her. Hadn’t he gotten her the position at his firm? Moved her into his condo? Paraded her around as his fiancée—although he had yet to give her anything more than promises. What a fool she’d been. It was all so much window dressing. She’d pinned her future on a fraud and a crook, and she was so angry with herself she could spit.

The only person she’d confided in was her friend Jocelyn who told her to go to New Orleans and find herself a sexy stranger, someone nothing at all like Craig, who could help her get the jackass out of her brain. Someone who could make her forget the disaster her life had turned into. Some spicy Cajun man she could have a fling with. Even if she wasn’t the flinging type, going a little wild might be exactly what she needed. Following the rules hadn’t gotten her anything except betrayed, dumped, and fired.

She thought about taking Jocelyn’s advice. Maybe she’d go to Pat O’Brien’s and have one of their famous Hurricanes. Maybe she’d even have three or four, get herself a little blitzed, and meet some spicy Cajun man. Throw caution to the winds for a few days.

First order of business, however, was to catch a cab to the hotel, change into something comfortable, and wander through the French Quarter. The curb was jammed with people there to celebrate Mardi Gras. Daisy managed to squeeze herself into a space and waited for the next taxi in line to roll up to her.

“Montmartre Hotel,” she told the driver as he got out to grab her suitcase.

“Mind if we share the ride,
chere
?” The voice behind her was deep and hot, rolling over her like warm melted chocolate.

Daisy turned to see who it was and there he was, as if she’d conjured him up. Her spicy Cajun male. Sexy for sure, he was tall and lean, with a thick shock of black hair and startling blue eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Uh, excuse me,
chere.
Do you still want the cab?”

“What? Oh!” She realized she was standing there like an idiot. “Oh, yes.”

“Well, I heard you say you were goin’ to the Montmartre Hotel. So happens I’m goin’ there myself. Think we can share a ride?”

Maybe this was the distraction she was looking for, a ride with a man who oozed sex appeal and could take her mind off her troubles for a while. She’d wished for him, right? No sense letting Craig ruin any more of her life, at least as far as this trip went.

She gave herself a mental shake. “I’d love to share a cab with you.”

“Great. Great.” He held the cab door for her, waited for her to slide in then settled himself beside her.

God, he smelled so good. She took a surreptitious sniff.
Patchouli! Wow
. She hadn’t smelled that in a very long time. Nerve endings blunted by the shock of her situation suddenly snapped and sizzled to life. She took a deep breath, the fragrance of patchouli teasing her senses even more, and did her best to compose herself.

“Don’t usually see beautiful ladies heading for Mardi Gras alone.” The smooth-as-bourbon voice slid over her and snagged her attention.

She glanced over at him, which was nearly her undoing. The look in those deep-blue eyes nearly melted her panties. “Excuse me?”

He grinned, a twist of his lips that was almost lethal. “I was just remarkin’ I’m surprised that someone as gorgeous as you is hitting Mardi Gras by yourself.”

Should she tell him? Why not? She’d never see him again. And she didn’t have to give him Craig’s name. It was already in all the media but, thankfully, without hers being linked to it.

“I, um, had a fiancé who was supposed to go with me, but he’s in the wind.” She lifted her shoulders in what she hoped was a casual shrug.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I can hardly believe any man in his right man would walk out on you.”

“Yeah, well, it happened. That and a lot more.” She forced a smile. “Anyway, hasn’t anyone ever told you that pickup line is pretty outdated?”

He laughed, a deep, sensual sound. “I guess it is, but in this case, I mean it.” She could feel his gaze raking over her. “Did he run off with another woman?” Mr. Hot Stuff shook his head. “I find that even harder to believe.”

“Worse than that. I discovered— Never mind. I really don’t want to talk about it. I decided to enjoy the holiday anyway. I’m sure I can find plenty of people to celebrate with.”

Pretty bold there, Daisy girl.

Maybe it was time for some bold on her part. She’d allowed herself to be Craig’s shadow for too long and look where that had gotten her.

“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble. This your first Mardi Gras?”

“It is, and I’m going to do my best to enjoy every minute of it.”

“Well, then, let me give you a little rundown on what to expect and how to enjoy it the most.”

His voice was musical and soothing, rubbing smooth the raw edges of her anger. She was startled by the instant connection zapping between them and wondered if he felt it, too. She kept glancing over at his very sexy face, rewarded each time with a smile that jumped her thermostat. At thirty-five, she’d met a lot of very interesting men, been involved with a few, but none of them had ever zapped her this way. Was it a reaction to Craig’s betrayal, or—

No. She wouldn’t go there. Anyway, maybe he was only being polite. Still, a girl could hope. As they chatted, he shifted slightly on the seat and his thigh came into contact with hers. Blazing heat surged through her from the point of contact, making her more acutely aware of the man sitting next to her.

“By the way,” he went on, “my name’s Marc. Marc Doucet.” He held out his hand.

When Daisy took it, she felt the same surge of heat as when his thigh had touched hers. The way Marc’s eyes widened a little bit, she could tell he felt it, too.

Ohmigod!

“Daisy Karr,” she told him, moistening her lips. “Um, is Doucet Cajun? Are you from here?”

He winked at her. “Guar-on-tee it. Born and bred.”

“But you don’t live around here now?” she asked.

“No, sorry to say. I had to relocate for work.”

“Oh.” She paused. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Nothing that would interest you, I promise. Dull business stuff.”

Okay, then. She didn’t want to hear about it. She didn’t want to think about the business world at all for the next few days.

“Are you meeting someone here for Mardi Gras?” Damn! Had that just come out of her mouth? It was none of her business. Except, lordy, he was so freakin’ hot.

“Not really. I have a little bit of business to attend to, so I thought I’d combine it with some celebratin’.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” He probably had some hot sexy woman waiting for him. Men like him never lacked for female companionship. Daisy had seen enough of them in her life.

“So, how long are you here for?” he asked.

“Five days.” Oh, wait. Should she have told him? What if he turned out to be someone she wanted to get rid of? Her brain was definitely not clicking on all cylinders. She’d just have to cross that bridge if and when she came to it.

She glanced out the window. They had passed the Mississippi River on the right and Lake Ponchartrain on the left, now heading into the city on Airline Drive. Craig had been here several times, ostensibly to meet with clients, although who the hell knew now if that was the truth. He’d never asked her to accompany him even though he knew it was a place she’d always wanted to see.

Now she wondered exactly what—

No. She had told herself she’d do her best to wipe all of this out of her mind for a few days. Facing it when she got back would be miserable enough.

“Oh, look!” She pointed out the window as they crossed the bridge into the city of New Orleans. “This is fantastic.”

Marc chuckled. “I always love it when people see my city for the first time. She’s an old lady, but she’s got plenty of charm.”

“She sure has.”

Soon she was drinking in the sights of the beautiful city and the quaint streets of the French Quarter. Everywhere she looked, people were in Mardi Gras mode. They hung over balcony railings tossing beads to people. Others danced in the streets to the music blasting through open windows from various radios. Or wriggling their way through the crowds jamming the sidewalks. And all of them laughing, in the festive mood that always came with Mardi Gras.

When the taxi stopped at their hotel, a valet opened the door and extended a hand to help Daisy out. She took a moment to look around, drinking everything in, trying to wrap the spirit of the celebration around herself. She
would
have a good time. She
would
forget all about jackass Craig, at least for a few days. And maybe she
would
have a drink with sexy Mark Doucet, if some other woman hadn’t already snapped him up. And if he asked her.