Table of Contents
To Cookie: Love is the reason. This is all because of you. To Mom and Kelly: You have always been the kind of women I aspire to bestrong, courageous, and beautiful. To all the Romance Divas and my SmutketeersEden Bradley, Crystal Jordan, and Lilli Feistywho kept me sane, or at least let me know that crazy was okay. And a special thank-you to Beth, Robin, and Eden for your red pens; to Lacy for giving me inspiration; to my editor Kate for her support and encouragement; to Roberta for believing in me; and to the city of New Orleansmay your magic never die. Thank you all.
RELEASE ME
CHAPTER 1
HIM? OH, BABY GIRL, ARE YOU SURE? HAVENT YOU HEARD the stories? What they call him? The man is trouble. By that I mean Id do him, and you know what bad taste I have in men.
A few curious tourists eating at the table beside them raised their eyebrows at Michelles overloud reaction to her plan, and Allegra grinned in spite of her nerves. She probably shouldnt have invited Michelle out to lunch at their favorite poboy shop to explain it.
Witnesses wouldnt save her from her roommates vocal, if humorous, disapproval. At least the food was comforting. And filling. She pushed away from the table, half of the giant seafood sandwich left uneaten. Personally, I cant believe you havent.
What? Done him? Michelle held her hands up and shook her head, chocolate curls bouncing with her vehemence. Hes easy on the eyes, true enough, but that man has a monkey on his back. A giant, climb-the-Empire-State-Building-and-swat-at-airplanes kinda monkey.
Allegra snorted, her sweet tea nearly going up her nose while Michelle shuddered dramatically. No. Hes not for me. And I dont think hes for you either, Allegra. No matter how big a risk taker you are.
Allegra smiled again. This was one of the reasons shed moved to New Orleans. She needed her friend, even if they disagreed. She needed a little laughter in her life. Someone to tell all her secrets to. Okay. Most of her secrets to.
Since the accident, her family back in Houston acted as though she were an invalid with one foot in the grave. She wasnt their Allegra anymore. To her it seemed they could barely look at her, and they spoke in those hushed tones reserved for terminal patients and funeral homes. It was like a never-ending wake.
Michelle, on the other hand, treated her the same way she had when theyd shared a dorm at the University of Texas. Back when Allegra was a wild, carefree youth who wasnt afraid to take chances, to live. Back when she was whole. So when Michelle called and mentioned her roommate had moved out and taken a job in North Carolina, Allegra jumped at the chance to start again. Before she let her familys concern overtake her determination to heal. To have a life again.
Michelle was right about one thing; he did look like trouble. Lucifer the fallen angel himself. Too beautiful not to be a sin. Celestin Dias Rousseau. It was a mouthful of a name for the mouth-watering man who owned the small coffee shop across the street from her and Michelles apartment.
The man she was going to seduce.
Luring men into having sex had never been one of her pastimes, even before the accident. But for the last few months Rousseau had become Allegras obsession.
Who was she kidding? Shed been hooked from the first morning shed laid eyes on the man.
Her physical therapist in Houston had left her with strict instructions not to overdo, but not to let her leg muscles weaken any further from disuse either. So as soon as shed arrived in town shed taken to walking through the French Quarter early in the morning. Oh there were still people milling about, there always were, but in the morning it was a different crowd.
Workers unloaded trucks to replenish the bars and restaurants that had been drained dry by the influx of tourists and businessmen. Artists, psychics, and performers staked out their places on the sidewalk, ready for the crowds that were their bread and butter. Crowds that, according to Michelle, were finally coming back after the nightmare of Hurricane Katrina.
Allegra had pushed too hard that morninghad it only been six weeks ago?leaning heavily on her ridiculous cane, her skin covered in sweat as if shed run a marathon rather than walked a few simple blocks. She could see the apartment. She only had to cross one narrow street and climb one steep flight of stairs. It might as well have been Mount Everest.
Shed lowered herself carefully onto the curb in front of a shop that smelled of espresso beans and chocolate. It was as good a place to live as any, shed thought, closing her eyes and focusing on slowing her heart rate. All she needed was a cold drink and a pillow, and shed pay whatever curbs were going for these days.
I have an extra iced coffee with your name on it.
The voice had slid down her spine like a rough tongue, instantly making her think of late nights and sweat-soaked sex. Sultry, with just enough edge to put her hibernating libido on red alert.
Allegra fanned herself dramatically. Dont lie to a dying woman.
Theyd laughed softly together and she shielded her eyes with her hand, looking up with a friendly smile at the warrior god who was handing her a coffee.
He was perfect.
Light cocoa skin and full lips framed by a closely trimmed goatee that saved his face from being too pretty. His body, however, was all male; thick thighs, lean arms roped with muscle and tribal tattoos, the hand holding the to-go cup so big she actually shivered. And those eyes. Hazel, heavy-lidded, long-lashed. The writer in her was inspired. Smoky eyes. Bedroom eyes. Brooding. Unless you wrote romance, how often did you get to use those words?
His hair fell in thick dreadlocks to his waist, tied back loosely with what looked like an extra apron tie. Allegra nearly melted into the concrete at the sight.
In high school, when her friends had all gone insane for the rock-and-roll hair bands, shed never understood it. No male should have prettier or longer hair than she did. But hed done it. This stranger had made long hairknotted hairsexy. Shed wanted to grip it and pull his lean, broad-shouldered body closer, to study every line of his face and the tattoo she noticed peeking out from the neckline of his white T-shirt. To kiss him, before hed even told her his name.
Hed handed her the coffee, free of charge, and they exchanged a few sentiments about the weather before he abruptly left her to go back inside, the line at the cash register grabbing his attention.
The next day thered been a small table and chair beside the caf, just for her. It had quickly become a ritual between them. She, sweaty and wrung out from her morning workout; he, cool and devastatingly attractive, if distant. But every day she came back, hoping for more. For conversation. For flirting. For something. Shed never drunk so much coffee in her life.
Like Michelle said, shed heard the talk. Noticed that his morning crowd was mostly made up of women. And those women would speak in loud, giggling whispers about him as they walked by her table. They would say he knew the right words to heal, and his touch could melt even the coldest heart. And sex with him? Sex with him was a blessing from Marie Laveau herself. According to them, he was the love doctor of the Big Easy.