Night Fires

‘Would you mind telling me why you’re so damned determined to avoid me?’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’

Forrester laughed. ‘And you haven’t answered mine.’ Suddenly, the smile faded from his face. ‘Are you afraid Of me, Gabrielle?’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘ Why would I be afraid of you?’ she said quickly.

Too quickly. Even she heard the quaver in her voice.

He nodded. ‘That’s right, Gabrielle. Why would you be?’

‘You did come into my life rather unexpectedly, Mr Forrester.’

She hadn’t expected to say that; the look on his face told her she’d caught him by surprise, as well. If only she could see his eyes, she thought; if only they weren’t hidden behind those damned glasses.

He smiled tightly. ‘And it’s lucky for you I did, wouldn’t you say?’

That was true enough. In her mind’s eye, she still saw the truck hurtling through the narrow alley, still felt his arms close around her as he threw her to safety.

‘And you knew the name of my shop,’ she said, watching him closely now. ‘La Vie en Rose, you told the cabby, but I’d never mentioned it to you.’

‘You must have forgotten. How else would I ?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gabrielle said sharply. ‘That’s what I’m asking you.’ She drew in her breath, then expelled it. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you’d take those sunglasses off.’

His mouth narrowed. There was a silence, and then he reached his hand to the glasses and lifted them from his face.

‘Satisfied?’

His voice was silky, his expression taunting. Gabrielle’s eyes met his. Yes, she thought, yes, they were that same impossible pale blue she remembered.

They were also completely unreadable.

‘Not really.’ Gabrielle cleared her throat. ‘You still haven’t explained how you knew the name of my shop.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose I noticed it when I walked around the Square my first evening in New Orleans. I watched the street performers for a while, and then I drifted down some of the side streets. Yours is the only flower shop around here.’ He smiled. ‘Clever name, La Vie en Rose. But then, I guess that’s why you chose it.’

Of course that was the reason she’d chosen it. The former owner had simply called the place Kastin’s Florist, and Gabrielle had known instinctively that you needed something catchier than that to make a go of it, a name people would recall.

James Forrester had proved her right. Could she really hold that against him?

‘And that alley—what were you doing there?’

He smiled. ‘What were you doing there, Gabrielle?’

‘That’s a ridiculous question. I was running. It’s a public thoroughfare. You don’t need a reason to use it.’

‘And‘I was walking,’ he said solemnly. ‘It’s a public thoroughfare. You don’t need a reason to use it.’

She sighed. She’d been joking when she’d told Alma she was paranoid, but that was certainly the way she was beginning to sound. A hesitant smile formed on her lips.

‘All right. I suppose I do seem a bit suspicious. But I—

I’m new here, you see, and ’

‘Don’t apologise for being cautious,’ he said. She looked at him, surprised at the sudden edge to his voice. ‘In today’s world, a little caution is a good idea.’ He paused. ‘But not with me.’

The sheer arrogance of the remark made her laugh. ‘And why not, Mr Forrester?’

He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face to his. ‘Because I’m the man who saved your life, Gabrielle. Surely that entitles me to a modicum of trust?’ A slow

smile curved across his face. ‘Actually, I’m the one who should be wary of you. After all, you’re holding my favourite jacket hostage.’

This time the smile reached his eyes. And it transformed him, Gabrielle thought. His pale, cool irises darkened until they seemed deep enough to fall into; his mouth, so stem and unyielding moments before, softened and reminded her of how warm and gentle it had felt against hers.

She swallowed drily. ‘Mr Forrester…’

‘James.’

‘James,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘All right, I admit

I was a little abrupt ’

‘You were. And you were rude.’

‘But I didn’t mean to be. I’m very grateful for what you did…’

‘Then have lunch with me.’

Gabrielle felt the tension seeping from her bones.

‘You,’ she said, ‘are the most persistent man.’

He chuckled. ‘I prefer to think of it as “determined”.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Is this an example of southern hospitality?’ he said. ‘What would the Chamber of Commerce think?’

She smiled. ‘They’d think you and Alma were working hand in hand. Did she put you up to this?’

James grinned. ‘Come on, say you’ll come to lunch with me. Take pity on a lonely tourist.’

‘I can’t. Really, I have work to do.’

‘Surely it can wait an hour? My guidebook says you can find the best Creole cooking in town just a couple of blocks from here.’

Lunch, she thought, glancing at him from under her lashes. What would be so terrible about lunch? Somewhere in the background, she heard the phone ring, heard Alma’s soft voice answering it.

Alma was right, she had been living a self-contained existence since coming to New Orleans, bruised and battered by her father’s death and all that had accompanied it.

But what did any of that have to do with James Forrester? He’d saved her neck, and look how she’d repaid him.

Gabrielle glanced at him again. He was waiting for her answer, watching her with a half-smile on his face. Lunch. Only lunch. That would be harmless enough, wouldn’t it?

And yet… And yet…

Was it her imagination, or was there some darker side to him, something ready to jump out at her the minute she was off guard?

‘Come with me,’ he said again.

Gabrielle looked at him helplessly. Suddenly, the beaded curtain clattered and Alma poked her head into the shop.

‘Sorry,’ she said brightly, ‘but Mrs Delacroix just called. She says the white roses are out, she wants bird of paradise instead.’

Ga

brielle threw up her hands. ‘Bird of paradise? What does the woman think I am, a miracle worker?’

‘I told her it was impossible, but she insists.’ The beads whispered again as Alma drew her head back. Her disembodied voice floated towards Gabrielle and James. ‘She says everybody’s been usin’ roses and she wants something special.’

Gabrielle sighed. ‘Poison ivy might be nice.’ James chuckled and she turned to him and smiled. ‘Well,’ she said briskly, ‘so much for lunch.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘You mean you’d decided to accept my invitation?’

Her eyes slid away from his. ‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘of course. How could I have turned you down?’ She raised her head and held her hand out to him. ‘Bad luck, I’m afraid.’

His hand closed around hers. ‘That all depends on how you look at it.’

She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

He smiled into her eyes. ‘I’d much rather take you to dinner than lunch.’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No, that’s impossible.’

‘Are you busy this evening?’

‘Yes, I mean, no, no, I’m not. But I’ll be exhausted after doing the Delacroix job. It’ll take all afternoon, and ’

‘I promise you a quiet evening, Gabrielle.’

She looked at him helplessly. ‘James, really, I can’t.’ Her heart tumbled as he lifted her hand to his lips.

‘I like the way you say my name,’ he whispered, and he pressed his mouth to her palm. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’

‘James…’

‘Eight o’clock, Gabrielle.’ He smiled and folded her fingers over her palm, sealing his kiss inside. ‘I’ll see you then.

She watched in silence as he walked to the door and opened it. At the last minute, he turned. ‘The roses,’ he said. She looked at him blankly and he smiled. ‘The ones I bought…’

Gabrielle blushed. ‘That’s OK,’ she said quickly, ‘forget about them.’

‘I’m staying at Maison Lillian.’ He dug in his pocket, pulled out a stack of notes, and tossed them on the counter beside the cash register. ‘That should cover it, I think. Deliver the roses to me there, please.’

‘Six dozen red roses? For you?’

But the door had already closed behind him. Gabrielle watched as he vanished into the crowded street. She’d have sworn he’d only bought the roses as a ploy. But then, she’d also have sworn she’d never have agreed to go out with this stranger who’d entered her life so abruptly. The heat of his kiss seemed to burn in her palm. Slowly, Gabrielle opened her hand and stared at it.