CHAPTER TWO
Nate watched Serena's subtle blue irises light with a wicked gleam. The Serena van der Woodson he'd known five years ago, the Serena he'd been undeniably cruel to in his youthful ignorance, had been a lot of things—kind, sweet, relatively low maintenance so far as lovers went...But wicked? Never that. Never until now. Nate had been around enough women to recognize nefarious intentions when he saw them, but on Serena, the effect was particularly potent.
"You've come home to seduce me? That may not be so easy." Or it might be as simple as finding a dark, secluded corner somewhere.
She leaned her elbows on the table, diminishing the space between them to mere inches. Dressed in blue jeans and a sleeveless leather vest, she would have looked like a certified biker-chick if not for her neat blond hairstyle—slicked back from her pretty face and clipped with an expensive silver barrette. Her newfound style was subtle, sexy, sophisticated.
He was in deep, deep trouble.
"I'll take my chances. I don't shy away from challenges anymore, Nate. I just figured while I was back in town, I'd mix a little pleasure with business."
"Business? Your magazine?"
Her eyes widened. She hadn't mentioned the magazine to him—yet. "You know about that?"
Nate grinned sheepishly, not entirely willing to admit that he regularly checked up on her through her aunt, Carol Rhodes, who was not only the most respected psychic medium in the French Quarter, but was also an interminable gossip and his very good friend. When Serena's parents left to tour the country with their jazz trio, Carol had been Serena's surrogate mother. She cared about both of them, so Nate had taken Carol's phone call this morning very seriously.
"Word gets around. You here to do a fashion shoot?"
She shook her head. "I'm here to scout out locations for a very special feature on New Orleans."
Nate relaxed into his chair, unnerved yet fascinated by the woman she'd become. Carol had warned him that her niece had "found her center." Yeah, like an earthquake. He'd have to watch his step, or he might find himself smothered by an unexpected aftershock.
Serena scooted her chair closer to his. The scent of her perfume chased away the smells of chicory coffee and fried beignets and lured Nate back to the past. Valentine's Day. Dinner at his family's flagship restaurant. A shiny red satin box with an expensive bottle of perfume to replace the drugstore brands she wore.
The mingled scents of exotic spices and fine essences assailed him. Did she still wear the fragrance he'd chosen for her, or was his imagination hoping for more than he deserved?
"I know you are a very busy man," she said, toying with the card he'd sent. "But if you can spare a weekend, maybe you can help me."
She opened her leather backpack again, this time retrieving a dog-eared collection of tour books, maps, local newspapers, and magazines. Post-it notes stuck out in all directions. He scanned the handwritten notations, his jaw dropping with unadulterated shock as each word, each sexual fantasy, each fetish registered in his brain.
He cleared his throat before he spoke, wondering if he didn't need to swallow another glassful of water before he could command his tongue to work. "This is all about sex," he said, feeling somewhat idiotic for pointing out something so obvious.
She smiled slyly. Then winked. "Yup."
"Who are you working for now, Playboy?"
Her laugh was throaty and deep, as if she knew a secret she wasn't yet ready to share. "I pitched a feature idea to my editor called "Sexy City Nights." We're devoting a full-color spread in seven issues to having sultry, erotic sex in the nation's top cities."
"That doesn't sound politically correct," he commented, not needing her snort to point out the hypocrisy of such a remark—coming from him. "Let me rephrase that."
"Don't bother," she assured him, "I know it's an edgy premise. And as you can see by my notes, the photos might be...controversial. That's why New Orleans was a natural choice for the first city. Since this is my hometown, and the feature was my idea, my editor suggested I do the, um, legwork."
"Sounds like an easy assignment," Nate answered, mentally clearing his schedule for the next two days. The idea of her exploring the sensual, sexual side of his city without him didn't sit well. Not one bit.
She toyed with a slip of pale yellow paper where she'd scribbled the word tongue. "Yes and no."
It was his turn to snort. "Name one drawback to such an assignment."
She pushed the pile of paperwork back into her knapsack, along with his card, which he noticed also had some note written on the back. "Guidebooks don't exactly point out the sultry side of a city. But I've been gone so long, I really don't know what's hot around here anymore."
Serena slid her hand onto his knee and Nate suddenly wished he hadn't finished his coffee in such a hurry. Moisture evaporated from his mouth with the same speed as a puddle on a July afternoon. When Carol had called to tell him his ex girlfriend was back in town and most likely having beignets and coffee at Café du Monde, he'd wondered if her return wasn't a sign. Serena had been on his mind quite a bit lately, but he figured his curiosity was just a symptom of his growing restlessness with the state of his life.
When he'd spotted her from across the sidewalk, her transformation from a somewhat shy girl into a sexy, sophisticated woman compelled him to approach her, tease her, see how she'd react to him barging into her morning. Test the waters for something more.
But now, she had a proposition in her gaze, on her pale, glossy lips, which she licked, slowly, and with the expertise of a seasoned seductress. "You wouldn't happen to have the time to be my personal tour guide, would you?"
"I'll make the time."
Her half smile put him on alert. This woman was up to something. Most likely revenge. He'd been cruel to her when they broke up—insensitive, arrogant, and downright mean. He didn't know that then, of course. He'd actually patted himself on the back for being so thoughtful and selfless to push her out of the nest even if she didn't want to go.
Was that why he'd come here? To apologize? Unfortunately, her sly grin and the soft play of her fingers up his thigh didn't exactly set the scene for a heartfelt admission of guilt and regret.
"You sure?" She inched closer with each word until her breath teased the shell of his ear. "You'll have to show me around town, talk to me about sex, maybe even do a little fantasizing or role playing while I decide all the best places to do it. Could make you uncomfortable, what with our past and all."
"Screw the past, Rena. There ain't a man in this city who'd turn down an offer like that."
"Great!" With that, Serena popped out of her chair and was halfway out of the restaurant before his head cleared enough to register her escape. Did she expect him to follow? Had his enthralled response been enough to satisfy her? Well, damn, he wanted to pay a higher price. Some good, old-fashioned torture was more than in order— and in fact, already had him hot and bothered from the back of his collar to the crotch of his jeans.
"Wait! Where are you going?"
She slowed, but didn't stop. "To my hotel." She glanced over her shoulder just before her pace quickened from a lazy saunter to a sinfully swinging strut. "You coming?"
