“You could start by getting your name taken off the Dead List. Do everything she wanted you to without prompting from her. Find out what really happened last night. I have a feeling she’s the kind of woman who will appreciate the truth, even if it’s unpleasant.”
“You’re right.” Stella was right. There it was again. He tried to shake the feeling of melancholy. “Man, this is hard work. It was easier to fake my death.”
“Keep that up and I’ll arrange for your real death.”
He didn’t believe her for one second.
He did, however, believe that if he wasn’t careful, Lizette might decide to keep him on the Dead List after all.
In fact, she just might put the whole lot of them on the list.
Then none of them would exist.
Which would be a problem.
Chapter Sixteen
PARTY OF FIVE
JOSIE Lynn knew she should have been totally mortified to walk out of a bedroom where she’d just made love to a man she barely knew in the bed of a couple she knew even less, but aside from being a little sheepish, she simply felt good.
Okay, good was an understatement. She felt amazing, giddy, like she was walking on air. She knew that by all appearances she’d just found herself involved with a man who was the stereotype of all things she’d sworn to herself she’d avoid. Sexy, too charming for his own good, wicked in bed, and a Bourbon Street guitarist to boot. But she found herself trusting him.
Her—trusting a man. She never thought she’d say that. Or at least not for a good long time. But something about Drake made her believe.
She followed Drake out of his roommates’ room and across the hallway to his room. They’d been so close to making love in the right room, she smiled to herself at the ludicrousness of what they’d just done. The liberating wildness and excitement of what they’d done. She hadn’t felt this free and happy in months—honestly, maybe not for years.
“Are you okay?” Drake asked as he crossed his room, which now that she was in, she could tell was his. It was as rakish as he was, with a huge burgundy velvet canopied bed covered in black silk sheets and tons of pillows. A guitar lay on the bed. And he had two armoires that looked expensive and antique. Like the bed.
“I’m great,” she assured him, stepping farther into the room as he went straight to one of the armoires. While he looked for clothes, she wandered around, running her hands over his finely made furniture, torn between admiring that and Drake’s finely made rear end.
“All of this furniture looks old,” she said.
He gave the room a cursory glance, then returned to rummaging through his clothing. “It is. Most of it has been in my family for years.”
She touched the velvet of the bed’s canopy. There was an almost otherworldliness to the pieces. Like it all came from another time, which of course it had. But she was also reminded of how Drake could have moments where he seemed like he came from another time, too. There was a gallantness to him. And a strangely proper way of talking. And even when they’d been having sex up against a door, she sensed something almost proper—or elegant—or something, about him.
Maybe she’d just never met anyone like him before. She glanced over at him, standing there totally naked, still managing to look regal.
No, she’d definitely never met anyone like him before. Katie and Stella said he’d come from a privileged background. For a moment, a rush of insecurity filled her. What did she know about privilege? Nothing. She was just a bayou girl trying to make something of herself. And failing thus far.
“You are looking far too serious to be feeling great,” Drake said, pulling her out of her reverie.
She smiled, although some of her giddiness tamped down a bit. “I was just thinking about finding out what happened last night.”
That was sort of true.
“Right,” he agreed, pulling out a pair of jeans and a black shirt. “We need to get back to work finding those Chers.” He tossed his clothes on the bed, eyeing it. “Or we could just stay here a little longer.”
Josie Lynn genuinely laughed at the naughty glint in his dark eyes. “I think we’d better behave for just a little while.”
He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Okay, super sleuth, but promise me you’ll come back here with me after we are done. Because, my love, I am not done with you.”
She smiled, but her heart seemed to beat both with joy and pain. She didn’t want him to ever be done with her. But it was far too soon to make admissions like that. She did know enough about men to know talking commitment too soon was a surefire way to send them running for the hills. Or in her experience, another woman.