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So, he did.
“Don’t mess up my hair,” she said as his lips captured hers. Her demand made him smile, so the kiss that could have been passionate ended up tame by his standards.
A tap on his shoulder put a stop to anything more. Brennan released Mary Paige and turned to the carnival ride operator, who removed the cigarette from his lips, tucked it behind his ear and said, “My turn?”
The man laughed good-naturedly, which made Mary Paige laugh. Again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time came over him. He almost didn’t recognize the bubbling inside him.
Joy.
Good Lord, Brennan “Scrooge” Henry stood among tacky red velvet bows and Christmas lights in City Park smiling like a toddler high on sugar.
Was the world ending?
“Are you coming?” Mary Paige called over a very bare shoulder, trying in vain to tuck the hair flying at odd angles behind her ears.
He could have said something very dirty like “not yet, but if we go to my place in the Quarter, we can start working on it,” but he didn’t because this moment wasn’t about sex, even though the skin she showed made him contemplate it. It was about what Mary Paige and his grandfather had said they’d embraced—being human.
“Yeah, lead on, lady.”
So he followed her swaying dark blue backside, wondering what in the hell had happened to him. And wondering if he should run from Mary Paige rather than run toward her. Letting go of who he’d always been made his stomach wobble…just like the tilt-a-whirl.
* * *
THEPARTYWASin full swing when they walked into the Pavilion of Two Sisters…and it was crowded. Waiters in traditional uniforms swerved in and out of the revelers, who were dressed to the nines in mostly black, green and red.
“Is there room for us?” Mary Paige joked, waving off an attendant inquiring about a coat she didn’t have. She eyed the rows of furs lined up at the coat check and wondered why anyone would need a fur in New Orleans. Then she remembered the abnormally cold temps the week before and acknowledged it would have been nice to snuggle into such warmth…as long as it was faux fur, of course. She wasn’t into wearing dead animals.
“Take my arm,” Brennan said as a slender brunette in a very short glittering dress advanced toward them. Creighton. Odd name, brash woman.
“I’m not your date,” Mary Paige whispered, taking his arm anyway.
“Please.”
That one word warmed her more than any fur ever could, but she didn’t have time to think about it as Creighton halted before them, bright green liquor sloshing in the martini glass she wielded like a gun. “I waited for you to pick me up.”
Brennan regarded her with hooded eyes. “Good evening, Creighton. Nice to see you.”
Creighton blinked. “Oh, yeah. Good evening.”
“You remember Mary Paige, don’t you?”
Creighton’s gaze moved to her. Nothing in her look was similar to the warmth she’d shown when Mary Paige had spoken to her in the elevator a week ago. “Of course.”
Then Creighton focused on Brennan, dismissing Mary Paige. Something about Creighton’s expression seemed as though she was contemplating a battle strategy…or disembowelment.
“I thought you were attending with Ian Massey. He said as much when I saw him at a meeting yesterday,” Brennan said.
Creighton’s shoulder lifted. “He asked, but I thought you and I had an understanding.”
She saidunderstandinglike it was more than convenience. Like she had a claim. Mary Paige wondered if Creighton meant more to Brennan than he’d let on…or if she only thought she did. Mary Paige shifted in her somewhat uncomfortable shoes and looked away, as if that could give them needed privacy.
“This conversation is making me uncomfortable, Creighton, and here is neither the time nor the place to rehash our earlier discussion.” Brennan glanced past Creighton at several people who seemed interested in their little trio. “Let’s have a drink, shall we?”
“I already have a drink,” Creighton said, swirling the cocktail in her hand.
“Of course, but I meant for me and Mary. Save me a dance, Creighton, won’t you?”
She blinked and for a second Mary Paige felt sorry for her. Because Brennan had made it sound as if Mary Paige was his date, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was handy for fending off old girlfriends, or because he liked kissing her on tilt-a-whirls. Either way it felt a little uncomfortable—the exact kind of perilous situation she’d cautioned herself against.
