LIFE MIGHT NOT HAVE dealt Bree Addison a royal flush in
wealth or circumstance, but it had dealt her enough high
cards to play toward a winning hand. Intelligence. Decent
looks. Ambition. Lately she'd been playing every one.
And while walking home tonight after her shift at
Toujacques — New Orleans's premier casino — Bree could
feel she was on the verge of pulling an ace from the deck.
Life had also dealt her stellar instincts. She had an
internal alarm that could sense trouble from across Lake
Pontchartrain.
The trick was paying attention.
So when she realized a car was following her, Bree took
the alarm shrieking inside her head very seriously.
As if emphasizing her sudden awareness of danger, the moon
slipped behind a cloud, throwing the street into shadow
along the lengthy stretch between street lamps. She caught
a heel on the uneven sidewalk and stumbled.
Grabbing the hem of her cocktail dress, she managed to
catch herself and regain her balance before going down,
but the effort left her pulse spiking hard.
The car drove along barely in her periphery, and she
wondered how she could have missed it. How long had she
been waltzing down these streets, so filled with good
fortune at being named one of the two women under
consideration for the promotion to Toujacques' head VIP
hostess job that she hadn't noticed what was happening
around her?
Bree didn't know, and she didn't like not knowing. It
meant she'd been ignoring her instincts, never a smart
thing in the best of circumstances.
Three in the morning in New Orleans's French Quarter
didn't qualify as the best of circumstances.
Glancing around at the familiar surroundings that seemed
strangely unfamiliar in the dark, she gauged the distance
to the entrance of the court where she lived, relieved to
see the brick wall that separated Court du Chaud from the
rest of the French Quarter. If she could just make it
around the corner and down the block to the alley...
Did she want that driver to see where she lived? Taking a
calculated risk, she stopped suddenly and leaned over as
if to adjust the slingback strap on her sandal. Beneath
the fall of her long hair, she peered at the car — a
generic sedan, probably a rental. It kept moving toward
her, achingly slow, but her instincts told her the driver
worked hard not to tip his hand by noticeably decelerating.
Tires ground over a street clammy with late-night dew, a
spongy sound that grew steadily louder. Chrome glinted as
the sedan inched beneath a streetlight, and Bree
recognized her opportunity. She straightened while lifting
her gaze across the windshield....
And staggered as if she'd been punched.
For one startling second her heart seemed to stall in
midbeat. Bree stood suddenly paralyzed, her face shielded
by the fall of her hair, purse dangling from her shoulder.
The February chill that had invigorated her earlier now
prickled through her coat in icy needles.
Jude.
He'd always been a striking man, and the ruthless beauty
of his face still held the power to make her stare
stupidly, as if she couldn't quite believe he was real. No
man who looked like this could possibly be real.
His long black hair was pulled back, a look that
emphasized the flawlessly carved lines of his face, his
unusual eyes. Up close those gray eyes would glint
crystalline from beneath thickly fringed lashes. His eyes
could play award-winning performances to any crowd.
Bree knew that firsthand because she'd been an audience
he'd played to. Once upon a time, he'd played her big.
With every instinct shrieking to run and hide, she sucked
in a breath that went down so hard she choked. By a sheer
effort of will, she forced herself to step into the wash
of light from a street lamp, becoming a bull's-eye in her
gold-spangled cocktail dress, a vulnerable target in heels
that looked so sweet but made running impossible.
What was he doing here?
She wasn't waiting around to find out. Forcing herself
into motion again, she strolled along as if she hadn't a
care in the world. She fought the urge to turn to see what
he was up to. Taking her eyes off this man was never
smart. But she couldn't let him know he'd been made.
She wouldn't tip her hand. Not to him.
Not ever again. Every second underneath a streetlight
scorched like the Louisiana summer sun, and Bree hadn't
realized she'd stopped breathing until moving into the
shadows again, where she sucked in a hard breath that
needled along her skin.
Think. Think.
He obviously knew where she worked or he wouldn't be
following her. He probably knew where she lived, too, but
she didn't have to lead him straight to her front door.
Lose him.
That was the only thing to do. But she couldn't outrun his
car wearing these overpriced sandals....
With her pulse hammering loudly in her ears, Bree eased
her way toward a live oak that spread its branches over
the street. She hiked her hem high to conceal the flashy
gold dress beneath her coat and edged along the dew-slick
brick wall.
Jude was almost past her before his taillights sparked
red. He braked, and for a split second she could see him
leaning over the steering wheel, scanning the street,
looking for her.
His car inched forward, and she dared to breathe, hoping,
praying he'd just keep on going. But Bree knew firsthand
Jude Robicheaux was nothing if not determined.
The brake lights flashed again. He was turning around. She
stood frozen, knowing his headlights would soon expose
her. If he saw her crouched in the shadows, he'd guess
she'd made him. This little game of cat and mouse would
end, and what he'd do then was anyone's guess. Once, Bree
had thought she'd known what this man was capable of.
She'd been wrong.
Why he was back in town was a mystery. Revenge maybe? The
last she'd heard, there was an outstanding warrant for his
arrest, and as she'd been a material witness when the cops
had been building a case against him...
But after all this time? Jude had been the one caught
scamming. He had to have known she would cooperate with
the police. Wasn't as though she had much of a choice
since they'd been trying to implicate her. Then again,
Jude had expected her to leave town with him and outrun
the law, to leave her family and stick by him no matter
what he'd been involved in.
She shivered. Didn't it figure he would show up when she
finally had the world by the tail, on the very night she'd
learned all her hard work was paying off and she might
actually realize her ambitions. He'd always had impeccable
timing. He'd made his move on her when she'd been too
young and stupid to see through him.
But Jude Robicheaux had already wasted as much of her time
as Bree would let him waste. He wouldn't get another
second.
One fast glance around the street convinced her there was
nowhere to run. Even without the lights flashing all over
her cocktail dress, her formal-length hem and heels made
her easy prey. He could be out of his car and on her
before she screamed long enough to get anyone's attention.
So Bree did the only thing she could do.
She lunged for the lowest branch. Catching the limb, she
winced as the spiny bark bit into her palms but forced
herself to hang on and swing her legs high to build
momentum.
She tried to catch the branch with her foot, but her
narrow dress left no room to maneuver. Luckily the seam
gave at the last possible instant, and she managed to hook
a knee over the limb and scramble on.
"Argh," she groaned as prickly twigs and rough bark
scratched nasty trails along her skin.
She could repair the seam of her fancy dress, but this was
the end of a brand-new pair of seventeen-dollar panty hose.
Damn that Jude Robicheaux anyway.
With irritation fueling her efforts, she reached for an
overhead branch and pulled herself upright.
She clung to the branches for balance, the heels of her
shoes providing surprising leverage. The slope of the
insteps caught the limb snugly, and she was able to gain
enough footing to reach the top of the wall. Maybe they'd
been worth the obscene amount she'd paid for them after
all.
The sedan's tires ground over the asphalt, engine belts
whining in protest as Jude maneuvered a tight turn. The
headlights swung around, aiming for her. Gritting her
teeth, Bree hoisted herself onto the wall, glancing around
desperately for something to hang on to as she lowered
herself into the courtyard below.
Light shone through the French doors of the town house,
casting the landscape into blackness despite the solar
lights along the hedges. She didn't recognize the town
house she was invading, had no idea which of her neighbors
might be awake so late.
Whoever he or she was, this neighbor obviously kept the
landscaping tidy and the branches neatly trimmed. Not good
for her. When the headlights sliced directly below her,
there was no place for Bree to hide, nothing for her to do
but tackle that twelve-foot drop.
With the wild thought that she should have known better
than to walk home tonight, she let go of the branch and
fell with a nauseating plunge until...
Something cushioned her fall at the very last second
before she landed in the shrubbery with a noisy crash.
"Damn!"
Though she didn't come down as hard as expected, every
bone in her body rattled. She felt an icy wave pour
through her and fought to free her arms from the tangle of
twisted coat. Another seam split, and branches took out
what was left of her hose.
A second passed before she caught her breath, another as
she shook off her daze, but Bree didn't dare move until
assessing the damage. All things considered, she'd have
expected that drop to be a lot worse. She had no idea what
had broken her fall — had her coat caught on a branch and
slowed her descent?
She didn't get a chance to find out.
By the time she'd determined she'd live, despite some
stinging scratches and a bruised hip that would wind up
the color of a bayou sunrise, a shadow sliced across the
light illuminating the courtyard.
Great. Someone was coming.
She had no clue which of her neighbors would find her but
seriously hoped that he or she hadn't called the police
yet. If the police came, there'd be sirens and commotions
and, worse still, explanations.
Any explanation involving Jude Robicheaux was likely to
land Bree in the backseat of a police cruiser, and if she
landed in lockup, she'd have no choice but to call her
twin sister to spring her, which would mean more
explanations.
Even worse, if work got wind of her unfortunate past, Bree
wouldn't stand a chance in hell of beating out Lana for
that promotion....
Think. Think!
The light pouring through the French doors should work to
her benefit rather than the neighbor's, so if there was
any way to slither unseen from the bushes and make a break
for the gate... Rational thought stopped the instant her
neighbor appeared in full view of the French doors and
Bree realized whose courtyard this was.
Josie Russell's.
Under normal circumstances, she would have just asked
Josie to harbor her until Jude had moved on. Unfortunately
tonight was decidedly abnormal.
Last weekend Bree had been one of the Court du Chaud crew
to attend Josie's wedding, and now the new Mrs. Max
LeClerc honeymooned with her new hubby somewhere in the
South Pacific.
The current occupant of Josie's town house could be none
other than the new bride's brother, who'd traveled in from
California for the wedding.
He wouldn't have a clue who Bree was.
Josie had mentioned him, of course, but Bree couldn't even
remember his name. She'd noticed him at the wedding,
though. Not only had he stood as the groom's best man, but
she didn't think any woman alive could help noticing such
an attractive man.
But while Josie's brother might be really easy on the
eyes, he was also one of those rich and powerful men like
those she worked for as a VIP hostess at Toujacques, which
meant he probably wouldn't have a lot of sympathy for her
trying to give her bad-news ex the slip.
If he even believed her.
He'd probably take one look at her torn dress and shredded
hose and figure she'd run afoul of a particularly nasty
john.
Boy, did she know this guy's type.