She added cream to her coffee, stirring it thoughtfully for a few moments. “It hasn’t been so easy being you, has it?” she asked.
“What? I suppose not. But is it easy being anyone? Has it been easy being you?”
She glanced down at her cup, at the dark liquid swirling there. “In some ways, no. In other ways I count myself very lucky.”
“Tell me about the lucky part,” he suggested.
When she looked up, he was watching her closely—watching as if he were really interested in what she had to say. And in doing a quick review of the conversations they’d had, she realized either he was doing a very good job of faking it so he could get in her pants, or he actually was interested, which was a novel idea. Her experience with men hadn’t led her to believe that any man who wanted in her pants had any other interest in her. Which, she realized in that moment for the first time, was a pretty fucked-up scenario, and it was past time that things changed. But she felt pretty certain his interest was sincere. Not that he didn’t want to get in her pants, but she was damn happy about that part.
“Hmm . . . okay. Well, I have some pretty amazing friends, especially my best friend, Kitty.”
“What’s she like?”
“Really? You want to know about my friend?”
“Yeah, I do. And no, I don’t want to have a three-way, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not my thing—too damn much to keep track of. I much prefer to give one woman my undivided attention.”
Shivering, she silently filed that remark away for future reference. “Kitty is sassy as hell. Really smart—smart enough to have started one of the best hair salons in town and make a great success of it. She’s funny. Kind. I can tell her anything, and I know she’ll never judge me. And she’s always there, no matter what. She’s one of those friends who would help you hide a dead body.”
“Good qualities to have in a friend. My cousin Jamie is the same for me. Well, he calls me an asshole on a regular basis, but you know, he’s probably right about that.”
Layla laughed. “Men have such . . . interesting friendships.”
Duff grinned, dimples creasing his cheeks, and she went breathless at the sight of them. That and the glittering hazel of his eyes fringed in thick, dark lashes. She had to bite her lip to keep from sighing. She loved that they could sit here having a meaningful conversation, yet at the same time, the chemistry never stopped sizzling. She squeezed her thighs together to ease the pressure suddenly building there.
Clearing her throat, she took a sip of her coffee and tried to clear her head. “What about you? What are your ‘lucky parts’?”
“Getting to do what I love for a living, which I know you understand, maybe even better than I do. Getting to come to the U.S.—to be able to stay, to work here.”
“That’s right—you have dual citizenship, don’t you?”
“Yeah, Jamie’s mother, my aunt Carrie, is my father’s sister—the American side of the family. Good luck for us, since we both love it here. I always have, and Jamie and I have always been close. It was his idea to open the motorcycle division of SGR Motors—he’s been at me about it for a while now. I suppose I just needed reason enough to come. To leave Scotland.”
“So, you came for the business?”
He ran a hand over his head, looking out the window for several long, silent moments.
“Duff? Did I just step in something here? If there’s some part of this you’d rather not talk about . . .”
“It’s old news anyway. But, yeah, I did feel as if I needed a fresh start. And I’d been wanting to come—that’s every bit as true. I finally saved enough money to contribute enough to the business, and the space next to SGR Motors became available. So, here I am, and glad I made the decision. Sitting here with you isn’t hurting any, either.”
She smiled, felt the smile spread like blossoming heat. And God, she was as besotted as a girl with her first crush! But the truth was, this was her first crush in a very long time. It was something she hadn’t allowed herself. Not until Duff came along and she simply couldn’t help herself.
Trouble.
Oh, she was in major trouble—the big economy size. Why did it surprise her that it only made him more appealing, knowing how perilous he could be for her? How he made her lose control, whether he was trying or not?
“These beignets smell good enough to eat,” Duff said, stuffing one into his mouth, the powdered sugar falling onto his square chin, onto the table. He wiped his chin and picked up another.
“Hey! Leave one for me.”
He winked at her. “One if you’re quick enough, princess.”
They made fast work of the beignets, washing them down with the lovely chicory coffee. Duff laid a tip on the table and stood, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.
“Shall we? It’s stopped raining and I want to see this Peristyle of yours.”
“Right now?”
“Why not?”
She led the way out of the café and they wandered the winding pathway through the park. The cicadas were singing, and although the rain had stopped, the air smelled of it, clean and fresh and touched with the ever-present scent of flowers that was so common in New Orleans. The Peristyle was a hulking silhouette, lit by the nearly full moon and the lights from the café reflecting on the water of the Bayou Metairie. They moved up the shallow steps and into the beautiful structure, where tall Grecian columns supported the vaulted ceiling.
He led her by the hand to the very center, where he stopped to lean his head back and looked up. “This place is impressive. Enough to make me feel small, which is no simple task. And every bit as beautiful as you said it was.” He leaned down and took her earlobe between his teeth as he slid his big arms around her waist. His voice was a low, purring growl. “This is the perfect place. That combination of dangerous openness, yet we’re still half-hidden by the dark. The perfect place to let a bit of our darkness out, yes, lovely?”
She took in a gasping breath, but before she could answer, he continued.