Eden's Charms (18 page)

“Stereotypical? Racist? Prejudiced?”

“Precisely. Look at my family, Ethan. We’re not out murdering people to get blood.”

“Savanah,” Ethan grabbed her hands before he ended up on the receiving end of one of them. “Not everyone is like your family. Trust me. Your family is so not the norm. Most fangers really are ruthless, demented, bloodsuckers. From what I’ve seen in this short time is you live in a peaceful commune surrounded by people who look out for each other.”

“It’s called family, Ethan. It’s what people who love each other do.”

“Is that all that happened?” Ethan grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her tears. “Your nose is runny. Blow.” He held the soft cloth to her nose, but she shooed his hand away.

Turning her face away from him she fought a giggle. “I’m capable of that, thanks, Mom.”

“It’s Dad, or haven’t you noticed?” Ethan pulled her into his arms, and held her trembling body. He grabbed more tissues, wiping not only her eyes, but his. He brushed a few unruly curls behind her ear, allowing his thumb to slip across her cheek. Her skin was as delicate as rose petals. Having her this close, he found it impossible to think straight. His mind wondered about every other part of her body and what she would be to touch and explore with his fingers and then his tongue.

“Ethan? Can we go to the airport now? I need to get away from here.”

“Yeah, once you put some clothes on. You enjoy doing this to me don’t you?”

Despite the body heat produced as he held her, she continued to shake. Ethan held her tighter, rubbed her arms and tried to regulate her body temperature to get her blood flowing. It worked.

On him.

His pants tightened. He fidgeted, trying to get a position he could sit in and not cut off his circulation.

“Just because you got me on my bed doesn’t count toward our bet, Ethan.”

“Just because I have you right here, right now, like this on our first date, tells me more than words, Pipster.”

“Pipster? Mr. Smugster.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

He quickly kissed the tip of it, and watched her blush. “Yeah, I am, but you like that. And you didn’t try discredit this was our first date.”

After she caught her breath thinking he was going to aim for her lips she proclaimed, “You’re FBI.”

“A what? Am not.”

“A full blown idiot, Ethan Kitt.”

“Yeah—but, Savage, look where this FBI is. Sitting beside the most beautiful woman on the planet who is wearing only a towel, no less.”

“Savage? You want savage?” Savanah closed the distance between their lips and drew his bottom lip into her mouth and nibbled.

He broke away. “I’m in real trouble here aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I’d say a hell of a lot of trouble, Ethan. Get the hell off my daughter.”

Savanah whipped her head around to the door. There her father stood, red-faced with a miserable puss on his lips blocking the entryway. “Papa? What the heck? Don’t you bother knocking anymore?”

Ethan pointed out, “Technically, André…”—He made a few hand signals, pointing to their body positions—“She started it.”

Savanah shot him the,
there’s-a-reason-I-just-called-you-a full-blown-idiot
look.

“Savanah, I said keep him under foot, not attached at the hip. There happens to be a significant difference. Out!” André had one hand pointing to the door and the other a balled up mass of white knuckles.

“Papa, you have to stop treating me like a teenager. He isn’t the first man I’ve slept with.”

“You’ve slept with him?” Every vein in her father’s neck and temples pulsated with anger. His new dents shot out from his lips. “Fuck!”

“Not that it’s any of your business, André, but no. Your daughter—”

“Shut up, Ethan. I don’t need you speaking for my daughter. Get up and get dressed, little girl. Savanah, he’s just another dumb blond. It hasn’t been that long since you and the crypt keeper broke it off. This is a rebound fling you’d be best to fling out the window.”

“Papa, there’s no need to bring Radcliff into this.”

“Radcliff?” Curiosity would kill the cat. “Should I be worried? That’s the second time I’ve heard that name. And did you just call me a dumb blond, Pops?”

Savanah whipped her head back at Ethan. Every ounce of color André had recently regained vanished. Savanah covered her mouth in shock and awe. “I can’t believe you said that, and you’re still breathing.”

André turned and, with authoritative thumps, strutted to the door.

“Papa, please don’t leave me like this. I’m a grown woman. You do need to knock from now on. I haven’t done anything with Mr. Kitt to disgrace you or the family.”

“Yet,” Ethan whispered.

Savanah slapped Ethan upside the head lightly. The door rattled the hinges when it slammed shut. They both listened to her father screaming for her mother.

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

“Wow! I didn’t expect that.” Ethan wiped the salty little beads of water from his brow. “Savanah, I’ll be downstairs. Get dressed, go talk to your father and then we’ll go. You don’t want to leave him like this. Trust me. Sometimes we don’t get second chances to make things right. So, New Orleans for the day?” Ethan attempted to get up, but someone still had him pinned against the headboard.

Angry, Savanah stewed over her father’s temper tantrum and the way he still treated her. Savanah studied Ethan. Did she trust her instincts in regard to him? Did she trust herself? Ethan’s breathtaking eyes never left her baby blues until she stood and dropped the towel. Turning lightly on her heels, she walked into the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a bit.” She peeked over her shoulder to check his expression. It was just what she hoped for…bright red cheeks, jaw hanging, but not drooling, and eyes welded to her behind.

“You don’t play fair, woman,” he said sporting a giant grin and an even larger hard on. “I’m not going anywhere. I couldn’t walk right now even if your father brought the entire gang back to string me up. Look what you’ve done to me!” He pointed to his pants. “And you’re walking out, all over a silly bet. You can have the damn car, just get back here.”

“Ah, so the tables have turned.” Savanah smirked. “It’s good to want, Ethan. It gives you a reason to live.”

“Savanah, I’ve found my reason. It’s you.”

Savanah stopped dead in her tracks, and faced Ethan, in only her birthday suit. With her hand on her hip she said, “That’s a very nice compliment or an exceptional come on.”

“Savvy, I’m not the one naked standing in front of a man whose restraint and will power is almost nonexistent. Please, do something. Either turn around and get dressed or walk to me, but one way or another end this torture.”

Savanah didn’t need to read his mind to find him sincere. That actually scared the daylights out of her. Could her father be right? Could Ethan be a rebound relationship or were her feelings for him real? Everything about Ethan caught her off guard, made her second guess her judgment. Yes, she worried about getting hurt again, but more importantly, she didn’t want to hurt him. She knew what that felt like, and she wouldn’t do that to him. “Ethan…” She turned abruptly, walked into her bathroom and closed the door. She slumped against the cool wood and even with her eyes closed, tears etched their way out.

Ethan slumped back onto her bed and watched the ceiling fan spin as wildly as his feelings. In less than three days his ideal life of a woman in every port had capsized. He’d entered into a realm where he was the proverbial fish out of water. Love had never been part his vocabulary. Lust indeed had a solid stage, but love? He rolled his eyes. He’d just confessed something to her no other woman had ever heard nor would any other women ever hear. And she walked away from him.

“Love stinks!
”
Praying he’d find the strength to survive her, he yelled through the closed door, “Are we still on for New Orleans?”

“Hell, yeah!”

After she came out of exile, Ethan got off her bed and extended his hand. “I promise just this once to be a gentleman, but if you ever tease me as you just did, your scrumptious little ass is going over my lap and I’m gonna do more than paddle it. Do we have an accord, Miss Savanah?” He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her.

“Goddess help us both, Ethan, we do.”

Chapter Ten

After four hours of smooth sailing, blue skies and fluffy scattered clouds, the jet touched down on the tarmac of Louis Armstrong International Airport. Strapped into her co-pilot chair, Savanah’s fingers were numb from gripping the controls. A light mist made her face glisten.

“Ethan, thank you for letting me fly this tub…”

“Ahhh! She’s not a tub. She’s a Cessna 750 CJ1+. She’s brilliant in the air.”

Amusement danced on her lips. “Does your girlfriend have a name?”

Savanah!
“You’ll never guess it.”

Savanah pondered every name she could fathom, without cheating and reading his mind, which is what she really wanted to do since she drew blank after blank. “How about sovereignty, or joy, or elusion?”

“Remind me to never let you name any of our children.” The second he said it, Ethan almost bit his tongue off.

“Children? What?” She asked wide-eyed.

He played it down and ignored her. “Her name is Nut.”

“You named your plane after a nut?”

“Not an edible nut—Nut, the Egyptian Goddess. Come on, Savanah, you’re supposed to be the archeologist. She is the mother of Isis, Osiris, Set and Nephthys. She personified the heavens and sky. She is known as the lady of heavens, the mistress of earth gods.”

“I haven’t given you enough credit. How much do you really know about ancient Egypt?”

“That’s a whole different day, Pip, but feel free to call me Dr. Kitt. I have my PhD in archeology and anthropology. I was writing a book on mythology until I became the main character. Werewolves? Right now, you and I have a date on Bourbon Street. You hungry or do you want a cocktail first?”

“Wow, Doc! How about a car to get us there? Then it’s on to the restaurant. I’m famished.”

“I love your appetite, woman.”

“Ethan, you haven’t seen me in action yet.”

“No, but I’m looking forward to seeing a lot of you and very actively under me.”

“Not this week you won’t.” Savanah stepped closer to Ethan. Close enough to kiss him, but instead she whispered, “Once the keys are mine, I’ll take you for one, long, slow ride,” as she ran her fingers from his lips to his belt buckle. “It’ll be fun seeing who I get a smoother ride from, who packs more horsepower beneath their hood…”

“It’ll be a bumpy ride and there’s no hood. Trust me, you won’t make it a week. You’ll be mine by this evening.”

Savanah tugged at his belt. “You’re delusional. Come on, you promised me food.”

****

The black coupe corvette had all of three miles on it when they drove off the car lot. Savanah sank down into the buttery, soft, black leather interior. Getting comfy, she put her feet up on the dashboard, only to have them knocked down immediately by Ethan, a scowl etched into his very being. “I can’t believe you bought this car.”

“I can’t believe you just put your feet up on my brand new baby. That’s twice in twenty-four hours!”

Savanah gave him an indignant nose twitch and asked, “How are you planning on getting it home?”

“It? I’m leaving you here and flying her home with me. At least this way I’ll get to ride one beauty.”

Savanah waited to see if he was joking… Mr. Poker-face gave up naught. “You were teasing? You’re not really going to leave me?”

Ethan grabbed Savanah’s hair and tugged her toward him. When she was close enough to kiss he whispered, “No, little nut, I’ll not leave you. You can ride in the back seat of my car on the way home.”

“This thing doesn’t have a back seat, Ethan.” Savanah shoved him away.

“My bad. No, but my plane has a little compartment you can stretch out in. It has all the amenities of home. Bourbon Street Blues or Pat O’Brien’s first. Your choice.”

“O’Brien’s has the hurricane’s right?”

Once in the parking lot she watched Ethan pay the attendant for three spaces so no one would get near his newest toy. “Are you always this anal?” She pinched his backside.

“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

“Oh, Ethan,” Savanah yawned. “I have every intention of finishing you.”

Ethan perked up instantly.

“Give or take one hundred sixty-eight hours.” Her grin reeked mischief as she bumped into his side with her hip.

Inside Pat O’Brien’s restaurant the Creole crab steaming in the kitchen instantly flipped the switch on Savanah’s appetite. Her stomach started a loud rumble that made Ethan laugh.

Catching her, he threw his arm over her shoulder and brought her close.

She slipped her arm around his back, torn where to rest her hand. On his hip—boring! Or his ass? Her lips curled upward. Savanah slid her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and with a hint of stealthiness, copped a feel at his firm glutes.

Ethan kissed the side of her neck. “I’m glad you picked my pocket,” he teased. “I love this place. It’s rustic, old-world gentlemanly.” He pointed to the beer steins that hung from the ceiling and empty champagne bottles that doubled as lights on walls.

One foot inside the piano bar, Savanah’s jaw dropped. “This place is fantastic. Papa and Aunt Raven would kill to play here. Look, Eth, two copper-topped baby grand pianos. Oh, they’d so be in heaven. So would you if you heard the two of them play together. They’re better than Billy Joel and Elton John together until my dad sings, then the hooks come out.” Savanah walked to the edge of one of the pianos and ran her fingers across the top of it, gently stroking each ivory key. Melodies sifted through the air.

Envy struck Ethan with more accuracy than her fingers did the keys. He wanted her delicate hands tapping out tunes on him instead of the piano. His fantasy disintegrated when a young man in a green waistcoat, and a velvet green bowtie carried two tall, fruity, concoctions with oranges and cherries skewered onto tiny swords to them.

“This way,” the waiter said as he led them through to the patio where they could be in a much more private setting. Outside, Ethan admired the flaming fountain, another hallmark of the restaurant. In between jet streams of water, flames sparked into the atmosphere defying the water’s ability to extinguish it. The fountain became his metaphor for Savanah, warm and wet, or at least she would be later in the evening if all things in their universe symmetrically coincided. Otherwise, he’d be cold, wet and alone in the shower!