Chapter One

"If I was that sugar, I could die a happy man."

Serena van der Woodson ignored the male voice and continued to dust powdered sugar off her breast. Women from New York City did not overreact to innuendo, particularly the expert come-ons of men like Nate Archibald.

Unfortunately, she was no longer in New York City. She was back home in New Orleans, about to face the man who'd shattered her heart eight years ago and sent her running to lick her wounds. Well, she'd done more than that, hadn't she? She'd become a whole new woman—one Nate wouldn't be able to resist.

Serena leveled her steeliest stare into Nate's crystal blue gaze. Her libido jolted her, but she managed to tamp down the dueling urges to smack him or kiss him. She was going to make Nate one happy man, all right— just before she walked away.

"Gosh, Nate. If you were this sugar—" she slapped the last of the white stuff off her hands "—could I brush you off this easily?"

Nate's grin spread across his lips like sunrise on the Mississippi—slow and easy. But his eyebrows, dark slashes that matched his wavy golden brown hair, shot up at her retort. Serena indulged a satisfied smile. She'd bet her entire set of Gucci luggage that he hadn't expected her to defend herself against his legendary charm. Why would he? She'd once been his willing, pliable plaything—fantasizing about marriage and home and babies. Then, he'd dumped her.

She'd been so young and helplessly in love. Nate had done her a favor by breaking her heart. If she'd stayed with him in New Orleans, she never would have found her backbone or the courage to discover the woman she really was—a woman of strength, intelligence, and fire. She no longer needed a man to tell her what she wanted. She could tell him herself. Or better yet, she could show him.

Metal grated on concrete as Nate pulled out a chair and joined her, uninvited. The patio at Café du Monde was surprisingly empty for a Friday morning, and Serena had hoped to grab a quick bite before reacquainting herself with the city, alone, for now. She had only the weekend to put together a proposal that would knock the socks off her editor. In line for a coveted promotion, Serena knew her "Sexy City Nights" feature could give her the edge over the other candidates. But she'd been away from New Orleans so long. While finding Nate and enticing him to be her very personal tour guide had been on her agenda, she'd been unprepared for him to find her first.

Sometimes, Fate worked mysteriously, but Serena had learned not to argue with the inevitable. Before she could ask him how he knew she was in town, he snagged a beignet from the three on her plate, took a bite, then motioned to a nearby waiter to bring him a café au lait.

"What brings you back home?" Nate asked with a drawl.

"Business...mainly."

He nodded and munched, his expression casual, as if he knew all about her new life and her new attitude and didn't need the details. She shook her head, wondering if Nate had cornered the market on arrogance. He had no way of knowing that in the past five years she'd finished college, worked hard, and could soon be named the features editor of a top women's magazine. She mingled with celebrities. Oversaw seven-figure budgets. Called the industry's top supermodels or fashion designers just to chat or "do lunch." She'd had no contact with him at all except for the card he'd forwarded through her Aunt Carol for her recent 26th birthday.

The sentiment had been simple—"Hope you've found all you've ever wanted. Nate"—but the timing piqued her curiosity and eventually, lured her home. Still, she kept her accomplishments to herself. Maybe Carol had told him. Maybe he wouldn't be impressed. As the owner of the hottest nightclub in New Orleans, the infamous Club Carnal, he knew all the same stars and supermodels. And with his family's money, he could drop seven figures in one night playing blackjack at Harrah's and not miss a beat.

"Have you called on your aunt yet?" Nate asked.

"She knows I'm here."

Nate's lazy smile widened. The waiter brought his coffee and a short glass of ice water to undo the heat of an increasingly warm morning. "Of course she knows you're here, Rena. Question was, did you call her?"

"My aunt's no more psychic than you are humble."

He shook his head. "You've been away too long, Rena. There's a strange magic that works in this part of the world. This is the perfect example. I never thought I'd see you back here in a million years, but here you are, looking all glamorous. Sophisticated."

Serena swallowed and pressed her lips firmly together, aware of the smoldering look in Nate's aquamarine gaze, of her instinctive, sensual response to his Southern speech, undisguised compliments, and intimate endearments. Rena. No one called her that. No one but Nate.

She shook off the memories and finished her coffee in two swallows. She had to remain in control. This was her seduction, dammit. She had to set the pace.

When her editor had first suggested that she use her hometown to kick off her project, Serena imagined herself spending the weekend only fantasizing about having incredibly erotic sex all around the city. But Serena's "Sexy City Nights" feature could conceivably rock an industry that pushed the envelope every day. She had to develop a knockout mock-up, tour the sultry sites, trendy clubs, and sizzling hot spots—from the raucous French Quarter to the glitzy Central Business District—firsthand.

And watching Nate sip his coffee with utter coolness though the temperature neared 80 at nine o'clock in the morning solidified her decision to see it all, feel it all, with Nate as her personal guide. He was the sinful side of New Orleans— living and breathing and sexy as hell.

"So—" Nate cupped the white mug close to his chest, forcing Serena to note how his gray T-shirt molded over muscles tight and ripe with masculine power "—what has enticed you back after all these years? Must be something good."

"Oh, it is." She lifted her knapsack and pulled the card he'd sent her out of the side pocket. She slid it across the table without a word.

Nate chuckled and shook his head, releasing a lock of golden brown hair that fell across his forehead. "I wasn't sure you even got this," he said. "But you didn't have to come all the way home to thank me."

When he slid the errant strands back behind his ear, Serena's fingers tingled with the memory of sliding her hands into that dark mane of his, skimming his lobe with her nails, then sealing the intimacy with a soft kiss on his temple.

"That's not why I'm here."

He leaned forward, invading her personal space with all the musky spice and powerful presence that made him so incredibly irresistible, so undeniably dangerous. "Then why are you here? You swore you'd never set foot in this city again. I didn't believe you, but you proved me wrong. Until today."

She watched Nate assess her from the top of her newly frosted blond hair to the tips of her smart, black leather boots. He didn't hide his approval or the clear question in his eyes that asked, who are you? You most certainly aren't the mousy little twit I dumped five years ago. Oh no, she wasn't. Now she had an absolutely perfect plan to show him just how different she was.

"I'm here to seduce you, of course."