Obsession

After only a couple hours sleep, she’d gotten up early and had come down to brainstorm ideas to get the Josephine back on track. Aside from a list of names she’d taken from the phone book of attorneys she hoped might help her with her tax problem, she’d made up a page of Rent One Night, Get One Night Free coupons, which she would have Philippe copy for her and then she would give out to her onetime regulars like Frederique.

“Josie? Is everything okay?”

She looked up to find Philippe still standing next to her with the linens in his hands.

“You don’t look so hot, chérie.”

She straightened the papers in front of her. “Have I ever told you that you have a way with the ladies, Philippe?”

He grinned at her. “No. But then again that’s not exactly on my list of priorities either.”

She gave him an eye roll and laughed, although with half the heart she might have.

“Has something happened?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I got another one of those calls last night is all.”

Of course, that wasn’t all that was bothering her, but it would fill the bill for now. The rest…well, the rest she couldn’t unburden on Philippe.

He put the package back down on the desk. “I’ve been telling you forever that you need to get your phone system updated. You’re still using rotary technology when caller ID might be able to nip the little problem of your midnight caller in the bud.”

“You told me callers could block that.”

She thought again about alerting Homicide Detective Chevalier about the calls. If there was even a remote possibility that the caller could be connected to the murder…

She gestured Philippe away. “Anyway, with business the way it is, we’ll be lucky to have phones at all by next month.”

Philippe still hadn’t moved.

She raised her brows. “It might be a good idea for you to at least look busy in case, you know, I decide I can cut your pay or eliminate your job altogether.”

He squared his shoulders and looked a gesture away from saluting her. “Yes, sir. I mean, ma’am.”

He picked up the package then took the stairs two at a time. Josie shook her head and turned to collect the lockbox so she could give him the money for the kitchen supplies he needed.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile.”

Drew.

Josie recognized the smooth timbre of his voice without looking. Of course, that might also have to do with the fact that he was her only current paying customer. But the way tiny bumps raced along her skin wasn’t how she usually reacted to regular customers.

“Mr. Morrison.” She turned toward the desk.

He was wearing a badge that had the Marriott motif on it along with the name of an auto-parts organization and his own name. He followed her gaze.

“Oh. I forgot I still had this on.” He put down his briefcase and pulled the elastic fastener over his head, tousling his hair.

“Uh-oh. The smile’s gone.”

Josie couldn’t help giving him another. He looked like a breath of fresh air in a stiflingly hot room. He was as welcome as he was unexpected.

“Conference let out for the day?” she asked, counting out the money then returning the lockbox to its spot behind her.

“No. Just decided Gasket Technology of the Future wasn’t going to do it for me this afternoon. So I decided to play hooky.”

Hooky. How youthful the word sounded. And how carefree. Had she ever played hooky from anything? School? Work? She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever shrugged off her responsibilities and given herself over to spontaneity.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever wanted to.

But somehow standing there looking into Drew’s face…well, she wished she could escape from the worries of her life for a few precious hours. After all, it wasn’t like the worries would go anywhere. They’d still be there when she got back.

Philippe came down the stairs.

Josie looked at Drew. “So did you have anything planned to fill your day?”

He looked mildly surprised by her question. “Actually, I was going to try to tempt you into becoming my private tour guide for the afternoon, but I didn’t think I stood a snowball’s chance in hell.”

Josie edged out from behind the counter. “Philippe, mind the store for a couple hours. It looks like snow to me.”

DREW COULDN’T BELIEVE his streak of good luck. Not only had Josie agreed to stroll through Jackson Square and then down Bourbon Street with him, she actually appeared relaxed and, yes, happy.

Why she’d decided to come out with him, he couldn’t be sure. But he wasn’t about to tempt fate by questioning whatever plan the gods had in mind.

“So you grew up at the hotel,” he said quietly, watching the play of dappled sunlight on her tight, black curls.

She nodded then watched her feet as they walked. She wore flat sandals with straps that wrapped around her ankles, the ring of shells around her left ankle clinking as she moved. “In essence, yes.” She squinted at him. “And you? I mean, I know you were born in Kansas City, but you haven’t really said anything beyond that.”

Despite the heat of the day, Drew slid his hands into his slacks pockets, to hide the fact that he’d clenched them. “Nothing much to tell, really. My father left my mother before I was born. Although I think you actually have to be a couple before one can leave the other.” He chuckled without humor.

“So you think your mom lied to you?”

He stared at her. “Yes. Yes, I do. I think she’d had a one-night stand, or a brief relationship with someone, someone who never had a clue she was pregnant. Then she blamed everything on him.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Drew was curious. “Oh?”

Josie smiled softly. “Yes. The identity of my father is as sketchy as yours, and my mother always cursed him, although they’d never been married. Granme used to say something about my mother having dated one man too many.” She shook her head. “I never understood exactly what she meant until I got older.”

Drew was surprised by the lack of bitterness with which she shared her past.

“Do you and your mom get along now?” she asked him.

“No. She died five years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He lightly grasped her arm to prevent her from running into a street mime painted in silver and dressed to look like a statue.

She said, “My mother’s still alive. Living somewhere in Chicago, I think. She hasn’t been in contact with the family for over fifteen years. I couldn’t even find her to tell her Granme had passed.”

“You seem okay with that.”

Josie shrugged, her eyes clear and lovely. “I am, I guess. I mean, my granme never excused her actions when she left her old family behind to start a new family, but she never cursed her either. Merely said that everyone had their path to walk, and that was hers.”

“While yours was with your grandmother at Hotel Josephine.”

She smiled at him, challenging the sun for brightness. “Yes.”

Josie had turned them down a side street and he followed, noticing the quietness of the road compared to the constant busyness of Bourbon. The clap of her sandals sounded against the pavement.

“And the hotel…” She drifted off, staring at some undefined point in front of them. “The hotel is almost like family to me. I’ve lived in it for so long, become acquainted with her ghosts, polished her banisters, mopped her floors so many times that—”

She stopped not because she’d run out of words. But rather because she’d looked at Drew and seen in his eyes the sudden urge to kiss her.

And before he knew it, he was doing just that.

He wasn’t sure what had inspired the move. It could have been the way she spoke with such love and longing, her pink, bowed lips moving, her eyes as warm as melted brown sugar. Whatever the reason, his kiss had little to do with his ulterior motives and everything to do with the woman who blinked at him in surprise and wonder.

Then she easily returned his kiss.

5

JOSIE’S BREATH LEFT HER at the first touch of Drew’s mouth against hers. One moment she’d been walking, talking about…she couldn’t remember. The next, he was gently turning her toward him, brushing his fingertips against her jaw, and kissing her as if he hadn’t been able to help himself.

And the surprise she read in his eyes surely had to be reflected in her own.

When Drew Morrison had walked through the doors of the Josephine yesterday, the last thing on her agenda had been personal involvement of any sort. She’d traveled down that road before and knew the dead end she would eventually crash into.

But what she hadn’t factored into the equation was that she’d gone into her previous luckless relationships without using her head. Each interlude had offered an opportunity just to feel.

And feeling was exactly what she was doing now, as she stood in the middle of the street kissing an almost perfect stranger.

And enjoying it more than was safe.

Drew’s tongue slid along her bottom lip, then dipped inside her mouth. He tasted like coffee and powdered sugar from the beignets they’d gotten at Café Du Monde. He tasted like one hundred percent man. Like desire and want and need all rolled up into one nicely wrapped package.

And Josie wanted more than anything to open it.

She splayed her fingers against the hard wall of his chest and broke the kiss.

“That was…” She drew a ragged breath, her eyes turned downward. “Unexpected.”

Drew chuckled, the sound rumbling against her palm. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Josie stared at her short, unpainted nails against his expensive Egyptian broadcloth shirt. She was dark to his light. Poor to his wealth. Yet on a primal level they emerged equals.

She knew instinctively this man could make her body feel things as it never had before. But it was time to bring her head into the equation for a change.

“Look, Drew,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I don’t want either one of us to go into this with our eyes closed.”

“Into what?”

She smiled softly. “I’m not naive. Most of the men who come down here are looking for a brief, no-strings-attached affair with a native.”

“Josie—”

“No, don’t interrupt.” She twisted her lips. “I’m not passing judgment on you, merely stating fact. And the fact is there is no hope for a future beyond this moment. I understand that.”

He ran the back of his index finger across her brow. “Josie, we just kissed.”

“No lies, Drew,” she said quietly. “That’s all that I ask. No lies. What develops—if anything develops between us—is temporary. I don’t want either one of us to pretend otherwise. That’s all. That’s my only request.”

He stared at her for long moments then nodded. “Okay.”

A simple word, really. But one that immediately smoothed the tension from her shoulders. Wiped the memories of the other times when men she’d been involved with had sworn never to lie to her then proceeded to do exactly that.

She kissed him again, long and hard. “I, um, think we’d better get back to the hotel.”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

She laughed softly. “I need to relieve Philippe so he can do his job instead of mine.”

She began walking. She felt Drew’s hand on her elbow then shivered as he moved it down to grip her fingers in his.

“Would I be moving too fast if I asked for the pleasure of your company for dinner tonight?”

Pleasure. Yes, it would definitely be a pleasure to dine with Drew.

“No. You wouldn’t be moving fast enough. How about a late lunch? Say at around three?”

DREW FELT AS IF HE’D NEVER be able to get rid of the light sheen of sweat that covered his skin. Of course, he acknowledged that the thick heat wasn’t entirely to blame, even though it definitely was getting to him, since he’d been careful to bring only the clothing a businessman attending a professional convention would need. Suits to reflect a first timer’s unfamiliarity with the Crescent City.

But the clothes and weather weren’t the only reason for his discomfort. Rather his anticipation of promised time alone with Josie Villefranche had him in a constant heated state.

It had been some time since he’d been with a woman, and he was afraid his body was showing him exactly how long. After his ex had pulled the stunt she had on him, he’d been subconsciously leery of becoming involved with anyone, even physically. The laser-like focus he’d put on rebuilding his career also explained the ease with which he’d steered clear of women.

But Josie…

While he tried telling himself his interest in her was merely professional and physical, there existed in the pit of his stomach the sensation that there was something more to his attraction to the mysterious hotel owner. He’d listened as she’d shared her story about her mother and grandmother, told of her attachment to the hotel, and he’d felt admiration for her fighting spirit and loyalty to the establishment.

And guilt that it was his job to take it away from her any way he could.

He stood outside a small shop nearer the more touristy area of Bourbon Street, not really seeing the T-shirts or the colorful beads. If he knew what was good for him, he would forgo his three o’clock date to meet Josie back at the hotel. Offer up a story about a superior requesting his presence at the convention. He’d told her he’d hoped she didn’t think he was going too fast. In reality, he was beginning to think he was. A concept that had never occurred to him before. He’d always been painfully careful about personal attachments, including with his ex-wife. But no matter how cautious he’d been, he’d still gotten burned by a woman who’d turned out to be far too similar to his mother.

And while Josie couldn’t have been further away from Carol in looks, temperament and background, and she was obviously fiercely independent, she was in financial trouble. And he’d learned long ago that money, or rather the lack of it, made people do unexpected and hurtful things. It was that very fact that he exploited in his job every day.

Then why was his gut twisting into knots at the prospect of enjoying Josie’s company at the same time he talked her into selling the hotel?

Conscience.

He’d once been accused of not having one. It had been early on in his career and he’d befriended an older man, Bernard Glass, who had built up his shoe factory over a period of fifty years into a moderately viable business he’d hoped to leave to his grandson, who would be graduating college in a year. Then one very successful television show had written the lead character as a Glass shoe fanatic and overnight the old man’s orders had quadrupled.

And his factory had become prime pickings for an Italian clothes designer who had had his eye on adding a shoe company to his impressive list of businesses.

“Can I help you find something, sir?” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Drew stared at the young saleswoman.

He found himself fingering a necklace of tiny shells like the ones Josie wore around her slender ankle. He removed his hand. “No. No, thank you.”

He strolled down the street in the opposite direction of the hotel, not due to meet Josie there for another fifteen minutes, his mind still on Glass and his company.

Back then, Drew had still been testing the boundaries of how far he would go to close a deal. He’d had the grandson investigated and discovered David had more than a taste for gambling. Worse, he was in trouble way up to his neck, owing a loan shark near Boston University, which he attended, far more than he could ever hope to repay on his own.

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