In Your Wildest Dreams Read online

  She nodded, but looked sheepish. "Sorry I stole your bed. But it was almost morning, so I figured you wouldn't be usin' it."

  "No problem—you were right."

  She blinked, as if trying to clear the sleep from her head, then scrunched up her nose. "So ... where you been? I mean, if it's 'cause I was here ..."

  He shook his head. "No such thing, 'tite fille. I'm fine with you bein' here—I told you that. As for where I slept... well, my grandma had an old house out in Terrebonne Parish and sometimes I hang out there."

  She tipped her head back slightly. "Oh. I thought maybe you were gettin' your groove on with some girl."

  She said it easily enough that he thought, Hell, what's the point of lying? "Okay, well, actually, last night I was with a woman. Tonight I'm headed out to the bayou for a couple of days, though, so I'll leave a little cash on the dresser for food or anything else you need while I'm gone."

  Her eyes opened wider. "You don't got to leave me money."

  He sighed. Merde. If she was arguing over cash for food, how would she react to two shopping bags full of clothes? "Shondra, I want you to eat decent while I'm gone." The dog stood panting happily at her feet, so to drive the point home, he added, "Hell, I don't even mind if he eats good." Then he tried another approach. "In fact, you'd be doin' me a favor if you got some groceries in this place. Whatever you want—stuff that's simple to fix."

  "What if you don't like what I pick?"

  Twill. I'm easy."

  "Speakin' of that..."

  "Huh?"

  She bit her Up. "Who's the woman? The one you were with?"

  He drew back slightly, shocked, although with Shondra, he figured he shouldn't be. "Know what I like about you, 'tite fille! You're direct as hell."

  She shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other. "The reason I'm askin' is ... am I crimpin' your style by bein' here? I mean ..."

  He shook his head. "Just the opposite, you wanna know the truth. She thinks I'm sweet as hell for lookin' after you some."

  She relaxed a little. "Oh. Well... good." She dropped onto the couch, and glanced up at him, her interest suddenly seeming more girlish than worried. "What's her name?"

  "Stephanie."

  "You in love with her? Or is it just sex?"

  He'd have been bothered by the first question if the second hadn't made him laugh at his world-wise little roommate. "Somewhere in between those two."

  "But it ain't nothin' serious?"

  He shook his head, perhaps a bit too hurriedly. "She's only in town temporarily. Be goin' back up to Chicago soon."

  "She on vacation or somethin'?"

  Given how world-wise she was, he decided to tell her the rest of it, to let her know bad stuff could happen to girls who ran away from home. "She's down here lookin' for her sister, Tina. Girl came down here, must've got into a rough crowd, and ended up turnin' tricks for a livin'. Stephanie hasn't been able to find her and she's worried somethin' bad happened."

  He saw the mystery and fear pass through Shondra's gaze. "Do you think somethin' bad happened?"

  A week ago, he'd have shaken his head. But somewhere along the way, he'd changed his mind. A girl didn't just disappear that easy. "I'm not sure, but... I'm worried, too." He tilted his head and used the easy segue for a question he'd asked her before. "Bet you got somebody at home worryin' about you, too—no?"

  "I told you, my mama probably ain't even noticed I'm gone. She's too wrapped up in her big white lover boy. No offense."

  He nodded, amused that she kept slipping up on that. "None taken. But besides your mom, I mean. Gotta be somebody else who loves you, Shondra, somebody we could at least call in order to put their mind at ease."

  An answer burned in her eyes, but she stayed quiet.

  "A grandma or a grandpa, maybe an aunt or an uncle, somebody you trust. Even just a girlfriend."

  He watched as she slowly drew in her breath, then finally said, "Look, I know you're just tryin' to help, and you been real cool. But me and home ... that's history. I'd rather talk about Stephanie some more. Is she nice?"

  "Very." It made him glance toward the little yellow shopping bag at the door, as well as the others.

  He didn't think this was gonna go over well, but there was no time like the present—especially since he needed to get to Sophia's soon and planned to leave town right after the third floor emptied.

  Shondra followed his eyes. "What's in the bags?"

  He got up, walked over, and carried them back to the couch. "Some clothes."

  "Your Stephanie buy you some presents?" she asked with a light, romantic little smile unlike anything he'd ever seen on Shondra before.

  "Actually, we went shopping' for you."

  "Huh?" Her expression went blank with shock.

  "Just figured you could use a few things is all."

  She simply stared at the bags, her face turning a little red. He couldn't read her reaction, so he decided he'd best try to win her over quick. Plunging his hand in one shopping bag, he came up with a denim skirt Stephanie had promised him any teenage girl would "die for."

  True to Stephanie's prediction, Shondra gasped.

  He next got a handful of cotton, extracting two little teenybopper T-shirts from Abercrombie & Fitch. They earned another gasp and an "Off the hook!"

  He raised his gaze. "You like 'em, no?"

  "Like 'em?" She ran her hand across the denim stretched over both their knees. "I love 'em! They're slammin' !" He watched her study the tops and skirt as if they were the greatest treasures she'd ever beheld, and a fresh warmth filled his heart. She likes the clothes.

  "Don't know for sure they'll fit," he said, digging out two pairs of shorts and another top, "but if they don't, we'll go trade 'em in for ones that do."

  Her eyes were glued to the clothes filling their laps. "No, they'll fit. I'm sure!"

  Next came a black skirt and white blouse. "I mentioned to Stephanie you wantin' to look for a job, and she said you could wear this. There are shoes down in the bottom here," he said, reaching in the other bag.

  "Shoes? This is off the damn hinges!"

  As he rose back up with the shoe box, he felt her touch on his shoulder and turned to face her.

  "Thank you, Jake," she said softly.

  He wanted to hug her. But he didn't—still didn't want to take a chance on scaring her that way. So he simply said, "You're welcome, 'titefille."

  "Why are you so nice to me?"

  He shrugged. "You're a cool kid. Only kid I could feel comfortable tellin' I spent last night with a woman, that's for sure," he said on a laugh. "You're like hangin' out with a slightly miniature adult with bad taste in dogs."

  "Hey!" she said, giving him a playful slug in the arm. "Don't dis Scruff."

  "Scruff's a damn menace is what he is."

  "Scruff's a good dog. Coolest damn dog I've ever known."

  He pointed at her. 'That reminds me. Don't cuss when you're talkin' to prospective employers."

  "Why not, damn it?" she said, straight-faced.

  He broke into laughter, then he gave her a playful punch—just as he remembered that one more bag remained on the floor. He reached down, grabbed the ropy yellow handles, and handed it to her. "This is from Stephanie."

  She looked as awed by the pretty little bag as she did by the clothes.

  "Said it was strictly from her to you and that you should open it in private. So after I head off to work in a minute, you can check it out."

  Her face dropped slightly. "You're leavin' already?"

  He nodded, feeling bad.

  "It's no big deal," she said. "I just... ya know... like hangin' with you some."

  "Yeah, I like hangin' with you okay, too."

  Stephanie spent the rest of the day working ... and not working. She caught up on e-mail and reviewed some files her team members had forwarded via computer—but her heart wasn't in it and she found herself drawn back to her crocheting. Somewhere along the way, she'd become determined
to finish that damn scarf. Homage to Tina or whatever else it might be, she just wanted to prove to herself she could do one more thing outside her normal realm of activities. She liked all the new parts of herself she'd discovered since coming to this decadent city, and she didn't want to lose them yet.

  She'd also exchanged a few e-mails with Melody— who, it seemed, had no other clues to give, adding, I'm so sorry you haven't located her. I wish there was more I could do. At which point she'd told Melody about Raven and her link to the CBD. Melody had replied with a list of places in the Central Business District that she'd once heard were frequented by hookers. Although, unfortunately, she didn't know Raven—Since I stuck to the upper-class venues and never worked that area. Safer that way, you know. Stephanie had thanked her for the list, planning to give it to Jake and Tony, and tried not to think about the CBD being a more dangerous place for an escort to ply her trade.

  In between all this, her mind drifted repeatedly to Jake and all that had happened since last night. They'd had fabulous sex and he'd told her about his wife's tragic death. They'd had fabulous sex and they'd shopped for Shondra, and for her as well, and he'd been sexy and flirtatious and not at all a man who seemed mired in tragedy. They'd had fabulous sex and he'd told her he was heading to the bayou for a couple of days. And then there was the fabulous sex.

  She went to bed early, feelings for him still badgering her. She'd once thought him an enigma, but now she thought of him simply as a man with a lot of pain inside, a man who—without knowing it—maybe needed someone to take care of him a little bit.

  After tossing and turning for half an hour, she glanced to see the digital clock said it was only a few minutes after ten—prime time at Sophia's third floor. Sitting up, she switched on a lamp and looked across the room to the pretty pink bag containing the lingerie Jake had selected for her. Then she reached for the slip of paper he'd given her with Tony's number—she'd tucked it beneath the phone next to the bed.

  Nerves bit at her as she dialed. She had no idea if this was the right thing to do, and maybe she should just forget it and hang up. Maybe she should do exactly what Jake had said—for once—and stay put until he got back.

  "Hello?"

  "Tony? This is Stephanie Grant. Jake's friend."

  "Why, hello there, Stephanie." He sounded so merry that she decided not to apologize for calling so late. "What can I do for you?"

  "I have ... what might sound like an odd question."

  "Shoot."

  "You know Jake's grandma's house on the bayou?" "Sure."

  "Well, Jake is planning to head out there tonight after work and I was wondering ... if you'd give me driving directions." No more leaky boats for her. If she was going to intrude on him there again, she was at least going to be sensible about it this time.

  "Uh, yeah, sure, but... if you just need to speak with him or something, I have his number at work."

  She took a deep breath and thought, Oh, what the hell. "Actually, the truth is, I kind of want to surprise him, at the house."

  "I see." He still sounded happy, thankfully.

  "Do you know if he keeps it locked?"

  "Yeah, he does. But lucky for you, I have a key."

  "Really?" she asked, not so surprised to hear he had a key, but that he was willing to give it to her, no questions asked.

  "I used to do some fishing there. But I haven't gone out since Jake started heading to the house by himself so much." He paused, adding as if they were conspirators, "You know, don't you, that he usually goes there to be alone?"

  "Well, he never told me that, but I presumed." Another deep breath, another truth. "I just... don't think he wants to be alone tonight as much as he might think he does."

  She practically felt Tony's smile. "I like you, Stephanie."

  Chapter 20

  Jake pulled up to the house beneath a canopy of cypress and tupelo gum trees, surprised to see the front porch light on. What the hell... ?

  He got out of the truck, but didn't slam the door—not wanting to alert whoever waited inside that they had company.

  Merde. Who the hell could be in there? They'd had to break in—no other way to turn the porch light on except from the inside. And who on earth would break in and then announce their presence with the damn porch light?

  Climbing up in the bed of the truck, he opened the toolbox mounted behind the cab and pulled out a hammer. No chance against anything that held bullets, but he felt thankful he had any sort of weapon—glad he'd driven instead of taken the pirogue.

  He took slow steps toward the house when something crunched beneath his shoe. He looked down, squinting. Was that a... ?

  Stooping, he found the remains of a round white mint crushed to pieces on the hard-packed dirt. He shook his

  head, figuring he must've somehow dropped it the last time he'd driven out here—but why hadn't some animal carried it off by now?

  A few steps farther, though, and he discovered another mint on the ground. And looking ahead, he saw still more lying in a loose trail that led up to the steps and onto the rickety porch.

  He wanted to be irritated as hell.

  But instead he only smiled. And followed the trail.

  Stepping up on the porch, he lowered his hammer to the sagging boards, then pushed through the unlocked door to find a fine of mints dotting the floor that led through the living room into the kitchen. There, the mints lay among the debris of new flooring materials and tools, leading to the bedroom—where he was drawn by the familiar glow of a lamp still missing one bulb.

  He stepped up to the doorway, crossing his arms as he leaned against the jamb. Stephanie lay on her side in bed, propped on one elbow. She wore the sexy, flesh-colored slip he'd bought for her today—it clung to every curve, and left her as close to naked as a woman could be with that much fabric on. The round globes of her breasts stretched the sheer slip prettily, showing off dark, erect nipples. At her hip, he saw the flesh-colored lace of the thong he'd selected.

  "Mint?" she asked, holding out an open roll.

  He grinned, motioning to the line of them that led to the bed. "Got some already, thanks."

  Lifting her free arm from where it draped sexily at her waist, she curled one finger toward her.

  He moved nearer, their eyes locking in the dim light, and kneeled next to the bed to bring them face-to-face. Leaning in, he delivered a slow, warm kiss—then gave a light laugh. "You taste minty."

  "Well," she said with a teasing expression, "all the cool kids are doing it, so I tried it, too. Afraid I'm hooked now."

  "An expensive habit," he replied. "At least seventy-five cents a day. Think you can afford it?"

  "I might have to sell my body."

  He glanced down at her curves showing so clearly through the meshy fabric, "/might have to buy it."

  She bit her Up, somehow able to look both sexy and sheepish at the same time. "I'm ... sorry I came out here like this. I was just..." She shook her head softly.

  He let out a laugh. "Horny?"

  She cast an indulgent grin. "No. Well, maybe. But I wouldn't have used that particular word." "What word would you use?" "Aroused, perhaps." "By?" "You."

  "I wasn't anywhere near you, chère." "Doesn't matter."

  "I must not know my own strength." He spared another glance for the negligee, which looked even better on her than he could have predicted. "But I have damn good taste, no?"

  "Yes, and it seemed a shame to let it sit in a bag all night long when we could be putting it to good use." She drew in her breath. "I... hope it's okay. That I came."

  He smiled—and allowed himself to be honest. He was so damn happy to see her he could barely measure it. "It's more than okay, beb. Layin' in my bed like that, you look like..."

  "What?"

  He let his smile widen, even though she couldn't possibly know why. "A dream come true."

  She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with heat. "I want to make your dreams come true, Jake Broussard."

 
He ran a hand over her hip, lowering another lingering kiss to her moist lips. "You already do." Then he chuckled. "You have no idea."

  She grinned. "Having dirty dreams about me?"

  "Maybe a time or two." Or ten.

  "Then I'm glad I came out here, so you can have the real thing."

  "Speakin' of which ..." He straightened slightly as a worrisome thought assaulted him. "You didn't take somebody's pirogue out here again, did you?"

  She shook her head and he relaxed. "I drove. Tony gave me directions—and a key."

  He grinned, imagining the kick his buddy must have gotten from this turn of events. "Where's your car?"

  "I hid it. Parked behind some trees to the right of the house."

  He arched a skeptical brow. "Stephanie Grant, PI, back on the job."

  "A whole different kind of job," she said, her voice gone silky, sexy. She flashed a come-hither smile and he realized that, for a novice, Miss Stephanie did sexy extremely well.

  Letting her expression seep into his bones, he pushed to his feet and stripped off his T-shirt. Below him, Stephanie reached up to press her palm over the ridge of his erection and he sucked in his breath at her heavenly touch.

  "Tell me something. What if I'd come by pirogue? I wouldn't have found your mints."

  She squeezed lightly and smiled up at him. "There happens to be a trail of mints in that direction, too."

  With that, she shifted to her knees to work at his belt buckle, her moves brisk without being hurried, and watching her toil to get him undressed made his skin sizzle with anticipation. After unzipping, she pushed down the jeans and he helped her until they dropped to his ankles. She wasted no time in lowering his underwear as well.

  "I want to make you feel so good, Jake," she whispered, her voice filled with a sweet, hungry desperation that nearly buried him.

  He reached to cup her face, thread his fingers back through her loose hair. "You do, beb. Mon Dieu, you do."

  She sighed below him, looking somehow bereft. "But... more than that," she said. "I want to... make you forget. I want to make it so ... so there's only me and you. Nothing to hurt us. Nothing to hurt you. No painful memories. No guilt. Just good things."