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When she came downstairs again, her hair still damp
from the shower, Gabrielle was dressed in a loose white cotton pullover and white cotton drawstring trousers. James was in the kitchen, one crutch tucked beneath his arm, wearing faded jeans and an equally faded sweatshirt.
He smiled as she entered the room.
‘See? I managed the shower and the clothing, but shaving is something else.’ He winced as he touched his fingers to his bruised jaw. ‘Can you survive the sight of me with a beard?’
Her heart leaped as she looked at him. He looked sexy and dangerous. It was a combination she had never thought she’d face over the breakfast table.
She turned away quickly and reached for cups and saucers.
‘No problem,’ she said lightly. ‘What do you think about having breakfast on the terrace?’
‘I’m one hobble ahead of you, landlady.’ James grinned and motioned to the door that led outside. ‘I’ve already set the table. And before you ask, I downed two aspirin with my juice.’
She smiled. ‘Good. I was going to threaten not to let you have any beignets unless you did.’
James grinned wickedly. ‘Too late. I sneaked a couple while I was waiting.’ His smile faded as his eyes moved over her. ‘The waiting was worthwhile,’ he said softly. ‘You look beautiful.’
Her hand went to her hair in a self-conscious gesture. Their eyes met and she touched her tongue to her lips. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled, but his eyes were solemn. ‘You’re welcome.’
Gabrielle swallowed drily. ‘Why don’t you—why don’t you go on outside? I’ll bring the coffee and the cakes.’
The terrace was small and very private, shut off from the rest of the courtyard by a high brick wall overgrown with ivy. James had set out china and silver, even linen napkins he’d found in the drawer. Alma’s rose stood in a goblet in the centre of the table.
‘I see you found Alma’s gift.’ Gabrielle nodded at the flower as she poured coffee. ‘She says to tell you she hopes you feel better soon.’
‘ ‘Nice lady,’ he said with a relaxed smile, and then he took a sip of coffee. ‘Umm, this is good. Is it the chicory blend?’
‘Yes. Do you like it?’
He nodded. ‘Very much. I could get used to New Orleans cuisine without any trouble at all.’
Gabrielle smiled. ‘Good, because I’m going to try my hand at jambalaya tonight. I’ll go out later while you nap. I’ll pick up some shrimp and tomatoes…’
‘No.’ She looked up in surprise. James’s voice was as hard as his eyes. He drew a breath, then smiled tightly. ‘Not without me, I mean. You don’t think I’m going to stay cooped up during Carnival, do you?’
‘But your knee, James. The hospital said you were supposed to rest.’
This time, his smile was the boyish one she remembered. ‘Well, I did. I rested all night.’ He put his cup down and sat forward. ‘If you’re determined to make an invalid of me, we’ll drive. That way I can sit and still see what’s going on.’
‘The traffic will be impossible. Alma says ’
‘It doesn’t matter. We’re not in a rush, are we? And if we see something that looks interesting, we’ll park and take a closer look.’
Gabrielle looked doubtful. ‘You’re forgetting about my little Toyota, aren’t you? After an hour, you’ll probably beg me to drop you off at the hospital.’
James grinned. ‘Which is why I telephoned the car rental people while you were upstairs.’ He bit into a cake, then swallowed. ‘Would you believe they’ve agreed to let me try my hand at auto demolition again?’
She laughed. ‘No, I would not.’
‘Well, they did. I explained that I needed a car, that it
would be hard to get to them with my knee all banged up, and they said not to worry, they’d have someone deliver a car to me here this morning.’
Gabrielle looked at him warily. ‘Hertz is going to do that?’
James looked down at his coffee. ‘Yes. Why not?’
‘You’re a terrible liar, James Forrester.’
His head came up and he stared at her. ‘What does that mean?’
‘You could probably charm the catfish out of the Mississippi if you wanted. Just look at the scam you pulled on the hospital.’ She laughed softly. ‘Letting them think I was going to take care of you—honestly, James, that was awful.’
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. ‘Not so awful. Look where it got me.’
‘Yes, look where it got you.’ She laughed again. ‘In other words, deceit does pay.’
She waited for his answering smile, but it never came. Instead, he tucked the crutch beneath his arm, got to his feet, and hobbled across the terrace to stare over the wall at the courtyard.
‘If there’s no other choice, it does,’ he said, his voice flat.
‘Hey,’ Gabrielle said softly, ‘I was only teasing.’
James turned towards her. ‘Sometimes the end justifies the means,’ he said, watching her. ‘I mean, if something is important enough, the way you get it doesn’t really matter.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You can agree with that.’
She looked at him questioningly. The conversation had somewhere taken a turn. They’d gone from pleasant banter to dark riddles, although she had no idea why.
‘James? What is it?’
He stared at her, then looked away again. ‘Nothing..I’m just tired.’
Gabrielle rose slowly. ‘Maybe you injured yourself more than you realised.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Did they do X-rays and blood tests and…’
‘Believe me, the doctors examined every inch of my body.’
‘Are you sure?’
He smiled. ‘Yes. And Nurse Ramrod checked again, just to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. That woman knows more about me than my mother.’
‘Which puts her light years ahead of me.’ Gabrielle drew a breath. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’’
He hobbled back to the table and sank into his chair. ‘OK,’ he said easily, ‘what would you like to know?’
‘Well, you never mentioned why you were in New Orleans.’
‘Didn’t I?’
Gabrielle shook her head. ‘No. I assumed you were on vacation, but…’
He sat back and smiled at her. ‘Good assumption. I am on vacation—I always wanted to see mardi gras. What else?’
She gave him a quick smile. ‘I don’t know exactly. Little things. Where you’re from. What you do for a living…’
His eyes met hers. ‘I’m disappointed, Gabrielle.’ ‘Disappointed? Why?’
‘Such prosaic questions,’ he said, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips. ‘I was hoping you’d ask about the important things?’
‘The important things?’
The ghost of a smile tilted across his mouth. ‘Of course. Do I have a wife? Do I have the requisite one point five kiddies and a cottage in the suburbs?’
It was impossible not to smile in return. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘do you?’
‘Do I what?’ he asked, feigning an expression of
innocence.
Gabrielle laughed. ‘Do you have a wife, one point five kiddies, and a cottage in the suburbs?’
He grinned. ‘No, no, and no. And—just to save you the trouble of asking—all my parts are in good working order, except for this damned knee, I like spring picnics and summer rain, I think whoever invented opera did it just to confuse good music and bad theatre, and no one’s painted anything worth a damn since Degas.’ His fingers laced through hers and he looked into her eyes. ‘And I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Now, is there anything else you need to know?’
Gabrielle felt dazzled with happiness. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t think there is.’
Suddenly, lines appeared beside his mouth, and his expression grew grim.
