The NOLA Heart Novels (Complete Series) Read online

  Her palms turned clammy.

  She could do this. Say something! You have waited years for this moment, she hollered at herself. Do. Not. Ruin. This.

  Brady scrubbed both hands over his jaw and blew out a deep breath. “Look,” he said with a sharp motion of one hand. He came just short of pointing an accusing finger at her like she was to blame.

  Obviously he was delusional. His lacy, red dress was making sense now.

  “Clearly we’ve got a . . . thing, but that’s no good explanation for me being a jerk at the party.”

  The . . . party?

  He stuck his hands into his jeans’ pocket in that way of his that was starting to grate on her nerves. “Just because I don’t necessarily agree with the way your proposal went down, doesn’t mean that I should have . . . ”

  His words landed like a punch to the stomach. Although she saw Brady’s mouth moving, Shaelyn heard nothing over the high-pitched ringing in her ears. He wasn’t apologizing for hurting her. And, God, had she hurt. In one fell swoop she’d lost her boyfriend and her best friend.

  Whom she’d realized soon after leaving New Orleans had been her only friend.

  She realized now that an apology—one that was heartfelt and true—was nothing more than a far-fetched dream still clinging on from her teenage years.

  “But really,” he was saying now, “You could do better. Remember those wedding magazine clippings you used to paste into that pink zebra binder? You love a good proposal, Shae.”

  The ringing in her ears reached an unbearable crescendo.

  Which might explain why she reached out and jabbed him in the center of his chest. “Get off your high horse, Brady,” she snapped. Another sharp jab. “Do you think you have any right to tell me how to live my life?”

  Her breathing came in heavy puffs. “Do you really think you’re the right guy to be talking about proposal etiquette? You couldn’t even keep your dick in your pants long enough for us to get into college!”

  In some far, far corner of her mind, she realized that they were attracting attention. Past Brady’s right shoulder, she watched as a tour guide (a new one) twisted to look over at them, an annoyed expression sharpening his features as if questioning who had the nerve to interrupt him in the middle of his tale.

  Shaelyn waited for the humiliation to arrive. It didn’t, she was that far gone. When was the last time she’d stood up for herself like this? So long ago that she couldn’t even rack her brain for an answer.

  Except that she would be the bigger person even if it killed her.

  “Apology accepted,” she said stiffly. When his eyes widened a notch, shock parting his full lips, Shaelyn gathered her emotions. “Now that that’s over, I think it’s best if we don’t talk again. It’s not as if we’re even friends.”

  For the first time that Brady could remember, he was at a loss for words.

  As he stared down at the woman who had captured his heart over a decade ago, he wondered where he’d gone so drastically wrong. Okay, yeah, he understood that they weren’t friends. Before the party at his grandparents’ house, he and Shaelyn hadn’t spoken in years.

  They were barely acquaintances.

  Maybe it was some twisted part of him that enjoyed their interactions. He liked seeing the spark ignite in her eyes. How, when she tossed some sarcastic comment his way, he itched to put his hands on her hips and tug her close until he breathed those snarky remarks into his soul.

  Yeah, he was all sorts of fucked up. He was okay with that.

  But for the life of him, he didn’t want to stop their conversations. He liked it when she was spitting fire, and as he stood there contemplating what he could possibly say to keep her from leaving, he failed to miss how her body stiffened.

  “Hey there, Shae,” a masculine voice called out from behind Brady. “Is Josie still inside picking out the goods?”

  This time Brady caught the flash of panic across her face.

  Her free hand jutted out and latched onto his forearm. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she hissed. “Like saving puppies or working undercover in a strip joint?”

  “I’m not the LSPCA, Shae.” He decided to ignore the stripper comment. No sane man broached that topic without a death wish.

  Her short hair flounced back as she jerked her head back to look at him. “You know what I mean.” Her hand slid from his forearm to his shoulder, the center of her palm skimming his skin and sending heat down to his groin. His imagination filled in what reality did not: her cupping the nape of his neck and pulling his head down to hers; her offering him a saucy smile before she kissed him.

  Yeah, like that was going to happen. He’d have a better chance of becoming Police Chief before the year was out.

  Instead, that soft hand of hers edged around to his back and shoved. Hard.

  He didn’t budge.

  “Did you take a crazy pill when I wasn’t looking?” he asked.

  Her lips parted, but before she had the chance to speak, a shadow fell across her face as a masculine hand reached out and pulled her into a quick hug. Benjamin Beveau’s profile disappeared briefly as he bussed a kiss on Shaelyn’s left cheek. Pulling back, he released Shaelyn and asked, “She in there?”

  Brady cleared his throat. “Beveau.”

  Shaelyn’s fiancé jumped at the sound of Brady’s voice. If he hadn’t known any better, that Crest-white, extra-wide smile might have duped Brady. Then again, the uneven hitch in the man’s breathing was a complete giveaway.

  Brady cocked his head and slid his gaze to Shaelyn. “Who’s inside?”

  Beveau looked to Shaelyn for help, bumping his shoulder with hers. The SOS went unanswered. Brady swept his gaze over the man: heavy breathing, high perspiration rate, hands curled into balled fists. The man looked on the verge of suffering an anxiety attack.

  Gotcha.

  “Who’s inside?” he repeated.

  “My, uh . . . sister.”

  “Hmm,” Brady murmured thoughtfully. “Younger, older?”

  A gulping sound slipped from Beveau’s mouth. Brady was just enough of a jerk to find pleasure in the situation. “Younger,” the fiancé said quickly.

  “Was she at my grandmother’s party?” Brady asked. “Don’t think I had the pleasure of meeting her.”

  Beveau’s Adam’s apple dipped, bobbed, danced as he swallowed. “Nah, she wasn’t there. She was . . . busy. With her kids. My nephews.”

  Brady’s gaze landed on the woman who had once held his heart and soul in the palm of her hand. “I see,” he murmured. “I’d like to meet her.” He paused, waiting for Shaelyn’s attention to return to him, and then nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ll wait for a few minutes.”

  Shaelyn’s gaze narrowed. “Why would you do that?”

  “We’ll all be family once you and Beveau marry.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  Brady felt a smile quirk his lips. “I’ve got some friends who could arrange that for you.”

  Her eyes narrowed even further. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but yup, here was proof that it was. She glared at him through mere slits. “Over your dead body,” she amended.

  “My superiors won’t be pleased.”

  A smile that he didn’t trust twisted her lips. In a sickeningly sweet tone, she murmured, “Everyone is replaceable, aren’t they, Detective?”

  Her pointed remark hit him like a right hook to the chin. From the moment he’d entered the ring for the promotion, he’d been made fully aware that he was just a number. Names were left at the door to make way for a numbered list of all possible candidates. Currently, Brady was in third and third just wasn’t good enough.

  Brady wasn’t good at losing.

  Looking down at his ex-girlfriend’s upturned face, he wondered if that wasn’t part of the thrill of the chase. He knew that her engagement was a sham, and that Beveau was married with two kids. He knew that his attraction to Shaelyn was headier now than it had been years ago.

  He a
lso knew that they had no place in each other’s lives. So whatever this was between them constituted as only one thing: a distraction. And, right now, he wasn’t in the market for distractions.

  “Brady?”

  Shaelyn’s sharp tone broke him from his thoughts.

  He added distance between them that he immediately regretted. He wanted his lips on hers, his hands cupping her ass as he pulled her tightly against him. He wanted to take her back to his house where he’d bury himself inside her and make her forget that she’d ever laid eyes on Ben Beveau, fake fiancé or not.

  His hand curled into a fist at his side. Wasn’t that the kicker—even when he knew Beveau was married, jealousy still stung him at the mere thought of Shaelyn with someone else.

  “I have to go,” he muttered. Before he made an utter fool of himself by revealing his Ace: envy.

  Maybe this promotion gig really was getting to his head, like Luke had said.

  “I’ve got to go,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, you’ve already said.”

  He took her words with a grain of salt. It was for the best that he understood nothing would ever come of them. She hated his guts and he had plans, plans that did not involve a woman who would prefer to skin him alive.

  Brady glanced over to where Beveau stood silently.

  It was a good thing that he wasn’t actually Shaelyn’s fiancé. She deserved someone who’d step in and have her back. Ben Beveau wasn’t that guy. Brady only hoped the man showed more initiative when it came to his own wife.

  He tilted his head toward the window of the boutique. “Guess me and your sister’s introduction will have to wait for another day.”

  “A shame,” Beveau said without much enthusiasm.

  “Yeah,” Brady drawled slowly, “agreed.”

  His gaze fell to Shaelyn, and he desperately wished he could read her strained expression. But in looking at her, he realized that they weren’t over. Not yet. Distraction or not, one day soon he’d rediscover the taste of her kiss. And when he did, he’d erase the memory of every man who’d taken his place in the last twelve years.

  Their gazes clashed. “You have a nice day now, Shae.”

  Her eyes slid to look somewhere past his left shoulder. Avoiding him.

  That was okay. Brady always did enjoy a challenge.

  7

  “I’ll agree to the tour if you take me to get a tattoo.”

  “Julian, you’re thirteen. Also, I like my head where it is—on my shoulders.” Shaelyn had to give the boy credit, though. He was ballsy. Curiosity had her asking, “What would you get?”

  Anna’s son ran his fingers through his tousled blond hair before crossing lanky arms over his retro Legend of Zelda T-shirt.

  Shaelyn pointed at her cousin’s graphic T. “Lemme guess, Link?”

  “What?” Julian snatched at the black cotton to stare at the image. “No way. Just because he’s on my shirt doesn’t mean I want him tattooed on me.” He gestured at her classic red hazard sign Ghostbusters T-shirt. “What about you?”

  She glanced down at her top and fingered the ragged hem. It was another time-traveler find from her childhood bedroom. “You don’t like it?” she asked. “I was trying to get into the spirit of taking a ghost tour . . . . Pun intended.”

  Julian rolled his eyes. “Really, Shae?”

  Grinning, Shaelyn made a pistol shape with her hand and pretended to blow billowing smoke from her finger. “That was a good one, I know.”

  Blue eyes traversed her torso with a quick, dismissive sweep.

  “What?” she demanded. “It might be a sleep shirt, but I think it can handle public criticism for one day.”

  His mouth quivered as though trying to withhold a laugh. But then the teenager in him stepped out once more. “You sure about that?”

  “When did you become such a pain in the butt?”

  “The day I exited Mom’s womb.” He spoke with such a lack of gusto that Shaelyn couldn’t help bursting into laughter. Man, Anna had her work cut out for her with this kid. He was at once both an awkward youth and witty teen, and there was no doubt in her mind that he’d be even more of a handful in a few years.

  “C’mon,” she murmured as she led him toward their guide. The girl was dressed in all black, looked to be in her early twenties, and when it was Shaelyn and Julian’s turn to check in, Julian’s cheeks bloomed about five different shades of red.

  “Have you taken a ghost tour before?” the girl asked them as she checked their printed tickets.

  It was Julian who rushed to answer. “Nope, first one.” He flashed a grin. “I’m excited to hear about all the . . . uh, ghostly stuff.”

  Shaelyn jerked her head in her cousin’s direction. Excited, was he? She threw an arm around his shoulders and hauled him close. “His mom has been meaning to take him for a while now, but I figured I’d take him before school started.” Leaning forward, she added in a hushed voice, “Eighth grade can be rough, you know?”

  The guide laughed before moving on to the next group. Before she was even out of earshot, Julian ducked under Shaelyn’s arm. His mean-mugging glare was the stuff of legends—an impressive feat for a thirteen year old.

  “Why’d you do that?” he demanded as they waited against the cool wall of the Cabildo, the city’s eighteenth-century government building.

  “Payback.” She pressed her back to the gray stucco wall and scoped out some of the other groups. Pirates’ Alley, which ran adjacent to the Cabildo, was incredibly narrow, forcing the tour’s groups to cluster together—a family of four, a couple sucking at each other’s faces, and one man with various cameras slung over his shoulders. What was he expecting, the ghost brigade of New Orleans’ Past?

  Skimming the bottom of his shoe over the alley’s uneven, nineteenth-century cobblestones, Julian released a huffed breath. “Payback for what?”

  “Making fun of my Ghostbusters T.” She elbowed him gently in the side. “Also did it for you.”

  “The tour guide lady was pretty,” he protested.

  “Not to typecast or anything, but she didn’t seem the type to go for jail bait.”

  Sullenly, his arms crossed over his wiry chest. “She probably wouldn’t have guessed if you hadn’t said anything.”

  “You’re right,” Shaelyn murmured with a chuckle. “The braces wouldn’t have clued her in.”

  While Julian blathered on about her insensitivity, Shaelyn scoped out the groups of people standing in the shadowed alleyway. She was not looking for him. Brady. Even as she told herself that, her gaze flicked to every couple, every man with his arms wrapped around his partner’s waist.

  She hadn’t seen Brady in three days, not since their confrontation at La Parisienne. Not since he’d walked away with that cold, detached look in his gaze. That indifferent air of his should have spelled The End.

  And yet, she continuously found herself watching the busy street from the boutique’s window in the off chance that she saw him strolling by. His absence was a blessing, really. Without him pestering her, she didn’t have to worry about what the sight of his muscular build did to her girl parts.

  Except that not seeing him had the reverse effect on her thoughts. If anything, she thought about him more.

  Maybe it was time that she did the horizontal tango. Had some naked one-on-one time with a guy who didn’t make her question everything. Someone who didn’t pose a danger to her heart.

  Someone who wasn’t Brady Taylor.

  As a renewed single woman—she’d tragically ended her engagement with Ben Beveau on the night of the bachelorette party—Shaelyn was free to do anything she wanted with anyone she wanted.

  So why was she still thinking of Brady?

  “Shaelyn?”

  She jerked her attention toward Julian. “Mhmm?”

  “Do you miss your parents?” There was a brief pause where Shaelyn’s brain stalled at the unexpected question, and Julian tacked on, “They died, right? That’s why you came home?”

/>   Shaelyn had been back in New Orleans for a little over a month now, but she never once forgot the reason she’d returned in the first place. Family. Responsibility.

  Her homecoming had very little to do with her parents’ passing.

  She’d never been close with her parents. They’d had high expectations of her and she’d failed on every delivery. After ten years of rare visits, it was unfortunately all too easy to pretend that they were on vacation or that her mother was once again refusing to talk to Shaelyn and making the same demand of Shaelyn’s dad.

  Julian didn’t wait for her response. “Sometimes I wonder if my dad died,” he said quietly. Shielded by the dark shadow of the imposing Cabildo, and the neighboring St. Louis Cathedral, it was difficult to make out his expression. “Mom never mentions him. D’you know anything about my dad?”

  To be completely honest, Shaelyn didn’t even remember the man’s name. She’d been rather young herself at the time, and her mama had done everything to shield her from Anna’s sinful transgressions. Charlotte Lawrence’s words, not Shaelyn’s.

  Even though they were barely more than acquaintances, it hurt to see Julian so nervous, so hopeful. “I never had the chance to meet him.”

  He nodded as if this made complete sense. “I’ve always wondered who I look like more.”

  Hastily she said, “Your mom. You’re a spitting image.” She prayed that Julian wouldn’t call her out on the lie.

  “Everyone says that but I wonder other things, too. Did he like to hunt? Or was he one of those nerdy boys who likes to play World of Warcraft?”

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “Says the boy wearing a Link T-shirt.”

  His features adopted a teenage scowl. “Legend of Zelda is a classic.”

  She wanted to tease lightness back into the conversation. Lift the heavy weight from his narrow shoulders. But neither did she want him feeling as though he’d misplaced his trust by tossing out a joke. “You’re right,” she said agreeably.

  “His first name was Tony.” Blue eyes swiveled to stare at her. “If I found out his last name, do you think you could find him for me?”