Open for Love Page 6

  His gut churned, and not because he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Bri’s delicate footfalls coming his way stirred the beehive inside into a frenzy, but he forced himself to turn casually as she entered the room.

  “Abbington House is lovely.” He added a smile to the genuine words, his gaze sweeping her from side to side and top to bottom, searching for something physical that was hurt so he could fix it.

  She barely returned his smile, and her eyes definitely looked a bit on the red-rimmed side. She’d done a fantastic job of hiding it, with a line of black makeup underneath that added drama to her already bubbly personality. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, free from its usual containment—another way to hide her eyes he realized as she turned away from him slightly and her hair fell across the side of her face.

  He noticed her tight fists, the wobble in her wedges. The little things she tried to hide tore at him. He heard the ticking of the bomb that would explode on opening night. He wouldn’t be able to conceal who he was then. He seized onto the possibility that he could introduce Bri to his father—“the boss”—and she’d think him the owner of Hammond House.

  But it was a fool’s hope, and Carter knew it. Felt it deep in his gut. Still his vocal chords seemed encased in ice.

  “Everything okay?” he asked as she stepped toward the door.

  “Everything is fine.”

  He reached to open the door for her, his hand brushing her elbow when he pulled back. “Have you thought about where we should eat?”

  You’re such a coward, he told himself as she exited. He shouldn’t have let the question go, should’ve told her he’d heard her proclamation about the “stupid Hammond House.”

  “There’s a great place in northern New Orleans, if you don’t mind driving.” She tossed a glance over her shoulder, some of the old, flirtatious Bri returning. The woman he liked so much, the one who’d drawn him in with those huge, dark eyes and that contagious giggle.

  “I don’t mind driving.” He caught up to her, his leg healing and working better each day. “You’ll have time to tell me why you’re upset.”

  “I’m not upset.”

  “And I’m not blind.”

  She turned away from him, and he let her retreat. Again.

  They climbed into the car and he pulled up the deli she wanted on his GPS. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “I realize this—” He gestured between them. “—is new. But I want to help if I can.”

  She sighed into her window, her eyes anywhere but on him. “I lost an important account today. One that would’ve been great marketing for Abbington House.” Her voice grew softer with each word, so that by the time she finished, Carter had to lean toward her in order to hear. Her sadness emanated from her drooped shoulders, her tension from her crossed legs, her pain from her ghostly voice.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t have anything else. At least not anything he could say. His attraction to Bri bordered on insane. His desire to kiss any other woman ruined. She’d tormented his every waking thought since he’d kissed her at the jazz festival.

  But he couldn’t say any of that, nor reveal who he really was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  “Oh, don’t apologize.” She playfully slapped his arm. “It’s not your fault. Though I’d like five minutes alone with your boss.”

  His throat became a desert. “Why?” he scratched out, leaving his tongue sandy and the roof of his mouth with its own pulse.

  “Apparently, my guest is ‘close family friends’ with the Hammonds. She moved her reservation to Hammond House.”

  Carter’s stomach fell to the highway. “Who’s the guest?”

  “Amanda Monroe.” Bri faced him now, and Carter worked hard to school his features. The muscle tic in his jaw happened without his permission, and he coaxed his knuckles to loosen their grip on the steering wheel.

  “She booked her wedding party at Abbington House, along with the ceremony. She said she loves our gardens. Then her stupid friend called, and she’s going to stay at Hammond House. Not just her—her entire wedding party. I lost four days of a full house—at the end of the summer season.” Bitterness bloomed in her voice, and Carter didn’t like the sound of it. Especially when she bit out Hammond House like they were curse words.

  He wanted to pull over and throw up. Because he could never tell her who he was now, , even with the threat of the grand opening only a few days away, and keep her.

  “She’s still going to do the wedding with me, so I suppose that’s good. I’m going to charge her twice as much because of the loss of the booking. She has tons of money; she can afford it.”

  “Hmm,” Carter vocalized, because he couldn’t say anything.

  She put her hand on his arm, and he slid his fingers into hers. She inhaled, somehow stealing all the oxygen in the car. “I won’t give up on Abbington House, not until I’m forced to.”

  Carter squeezed her hand, anxiety spiking at the mention of Abbington closing. “I’m sure you won’t have to. You said you were booked through June, right?”

  She nodded, a new determination sharpening her jaw. “Nana used to say the only reason I wasn’t killed in the car accident with my parents was because I was too stubborn. When I wouldn’t wear the dress my mother wanted me to, they dropped me off at Nana’s. Then they….” Her voice sank into silence, and the atmosphere darkened.

  “Bri.” Carter wasn’t sure what else to add. He released the barrier he’d been keeping between them. “Stubbornness isn’t always a bad thing. It saved you then; it can save you again.”

  She gave a humorless laugh. “I never thought of being stubborn as a good quality. Nana never spoke of it as such. I think she sometimes blames me for my parents’ deaths. Dropping me off with her made them late.”

  “Well, sometimes the people we love say and do things we don’t understand.” He slid her a glance to gauge her reaction, wanting to tell her about his mother’s decision to abandon him in New York but not wanting to downplay her struggles.

  She lifted one sexy shoulder into a quick shrug as she removed her hand from his. She balled her fists and studied them in her lap. “She’s ninety years old,” she said, practically a whisper. “When she dies, I won’t have anyone left.”

  A familiar squeeze of sadness pinched Carter’s throat. He’d experienced her feelings over the absence of his mother, like there was something worth more than him in New Orleans and that was why she couldn’t leave.

  Even now, he felt a pull to his mother, to this city, and he didn’t want to give up on his B&B any more than Bri did.

  She shook her head, brushed at her eyes. “Okay, enough of that.” She painted on a bright smile, and Carter wished she wouldn’t. Hiding behind a false mask of happiness never worked for long—he knew better than most. But again, he let her retreat, cover her pain with smiles, and allowed her to steer the conversation into safer waters.

  The beach found Carter walking its length by dawn. He couldn’t shake his intense feelings for Bri Arnold, but he couldn’t keep lying to her either. He’d started a dozen texts to her during the early morning hours, all of them ending after only four or five words.

  Why was I own Hammond House so hard to type?

  As the sun lit the water into shades of gold and orange, Carter couldn’t find a way out of his predicament. Bri had invited him to go cemetery touring later that morning, and he hadn’t been able to say no.

  He hated feeling like the man his father thought he was. Weak. Fearful. Unsuccessful. His toes squished through the sand as he considered abandoning Hammond House, and Bri, and New Orleans completely. He had a passport and an unlimited credit line. But his father had people to trace electronic transactions, and even if Carter flew across the world, he’d never escape his dad.

  Carter’s resolve strengthened; his back straightened. He wasn’t a quitter. He wouldn’t run away. He passed in front of Abbington House, wondering if he’d quit and run when it came to
Bri.

  A few hours later, she met him in his office with a smile and a sexy sundress that further hardened his determination to see things through with her.

  “Are you ready to walk among the dead?” She waggled her fingers and made spooky Halloween sounds before laughing.

  Carter abandoned his work in favor of wrapping her inside his embrace. “I like walking anywhere with you.” He placed a quick kiss to her cheek and shrugged out of his suit jacket.

  “I have a list of places where your mother could be buried.” Bri held up a piece of yellow notebook paper. “We won’t be able to get to all of them today, but probably a couple. I’ve scheduled a tour at ten a.m. at St. Louis Number One, so let’s go.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder, a grin on her lips that drove his pulse into a frenzy.

  Dinner last night had been subdued, but still spectacular. Carter couldn’t believe how she infected him with optimism—even if it was forced—how much he trusted her, how enjoyable and easy he found her company. He’d kissed her, but pulled away sooner than he would’ve liked.

  She’d noticed, if the sudden folding into herself was any indication. But Carter couldn’t kiss her and keep lying. Walking through the Cities of the Dead to find his mother probably shouldn’t be done until she knew his true identity either.

  “Dinner cruise tonight?” He followed her into the hall and continued toward the lobby. He imagined it full of people, of sound and laughter, of satisfied customers.

  “You have to schedule those cruising dinners in advance,” she said.

  “I know.”

  She paused near the sliding glass door, and he kept hobbling to catch up to her. “I called the Natchez an hour ago. I got us a table on the balcony of the ship.”

  “You did not.”

  He took in her incredulous expression. “You don’t like the Natchez? I’m sure there are other options.”

  She blinked; her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink; she swallowed. “The Natchez is fine.”

  He groaned, infusing the sound with as much sarcasm as possible. “When a woman says ‘fine,’ that’s never good. And you’ve said it a lot lately.”

  She giggled and linked her arm through his, tugging him toward the sliding door. He had a flash of what life with Bri could be like. What his life after a long day of managing a hotel would be like.

  He inhaled her rosy, clean scent, imagining her waking next to him every morning. Maybe she felt the same; maybe they could work in tandem to promote their B&B’s; maybe he could confess who he was and keep Bri on his arm.

  As they wandered through the crypts, though, a sense of dread infused his thoughts.

  “Nothing,” Bri complained after they’d visited three cemeteries. She consulted her list, her eyes drawn into a squint. “Well, there’s three more, but I need to get to Abbington for a few hours.” She started to move toward the parking lot.

  Carter touched her arm, which brought her to a stop. She turned back to him and he slid his hands down her bare arms. “Thank you, Bri.”

  “We didn’t find her.” Frustration laced every syllable.

  “I know, but I’m sure we will.” The thought scared him as much as he yearned for it. “My mother wrote me a letter before she died.” Carter paused as the emotion surged up his throat, where it would surely stain his voice. He shrugged, as if he could rid himself of the turmoil inside as easily. “I guess I just need to know where she is.”

  “What did the letter say?” She held up her hands. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  He beamed down on her, this woman who wanted him to share his life with her. Her open, easy-going nature made him want to be more open, and he almost blurted who he was. “I’ll bring it to dinner tonight. I don’t mind if you read it. The ship sails at seven. You’ll be done by six?”

  “Technically, it’s my day off. I can be done whenever.” She pressed into him, tilting her head back to smile up at him.

  “You go in on your days off?”

  A cloud flitted across her face. “I don’t exactly have a lot of hobbies keeping me away from the House.”

  “Well, maybe you will now.” He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, barely making contact before pulling away. Her eyes remained closed, her mouth willing and waiting for his. He kissed her again, this time holding on for a true taste of Bri’s cool lips. A breeze drifted between the crypts, combining with the heat of their embrace and causing a shiver to run down Carter’s arms.

  He started to pull away, but Bri moaned and pressed forward to maintain the contact. Urged on by the desire he heard and the heat flowing through his veins, he stepped back into her, his hands sliding down her back and coming to rest on her hips.

  He loved the feel of this woman next to him, and skated his lips down her throat. She tipped her head back, inviting him, drawing him closer, deeper, tighter.

  “Carter,” she whispered, ducking her head to break their contact.

  He took an extra moment to steady his breathing. “Yeah?”

  “We’re standing in a cemetery.”

  A grin spread across his face. “Not the best place for making out?”

  She laughed, exposing that delicious neck again. Carter licked his lips and released his hold on Bri’s body. As he headed back to his car, Bri matched his still somewhat slow pace and placed her hand in his.

  Every step felt like he was getting closer to losing her, because every moment they shared together, every kiss, every meaningful story from their past would become a blade that would shatter Bri when she learned the truth about him.

  Chapter Nine:

  Bri wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it could smudge her makeup. Carter’s mother’s letter was beautiful, addressing him by his nickname and professing her love for him in profound ways. And she’d always longed for a B&B—no wonder Carter had come here to help open Hammond House.

  “She only died five years ago.” She folded the well-loved stationary carefully and slid it across the table to him. “You never met her?”

  He shook his head and reached for his wine as the ship swayed the slightest bit. “My father gave me the letter when he told me she’d passed away. It explained almost everything I’d always wondered about—why she couldn’t leave New Orleans, how much she loved me.” He added a shrug to his statement like never knowing his mom didn’t sting. But Bri knew by the somewhat strangled note in his voice that it did.

  She understood Carter’s mother’s motivation for staying to take care of an ailing family member. Though Nana was still able to live alone, Bri wondered how long that would last. She crossed her legs under the table, adjusting her center of gravity as the ship pitched to the right. “Why weren’t your parents together?”

  Carter sighed and glanced over the railing and into the Mississippi River. “I don’t know for sure. My father is married to his work, and I think that had something to do with it. I think they met in college and I came along pretty quick after that. Sort of a get-married-quick type of thing. But my mother never came to New York, and my father didn’t want her to—the letter says he asked her not to, and she honored his wishes.”

  He focused on her again, his eyes conveying the vulnerability Bri found so attractive in men.

  “I couldn’t talk to my father for months,” he admitted. “I was so angry at him for keeping her from me. Furious at her for staying her to take care of her parents when she could’ve left them for a weekend.” He took a deep breath and regained his lawyerly composure. “But I made peace with everything a few years ago. Still, when the opportunity came to work in New Orleans, I snatched it up.”

  She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I’m sorry about your dad. Maybe you’ll get to know you mom a little by being here in New Orleans.”

  “That’s one reason I wanted to come here.”

  “I remember you said that.” She smiled at him. She wondered what he was like behind closed doors, without the suit and tie. She wondered if she cou
ld fit into his life. Surprised by her thoughts, Bri wondered if she could give herself to him wholeheartedly. She’d always given only part of herself, unwilling to commit. The only thing she’d wholly committed to was Abbington House, and the thought of losing that burned like lava in her veins.

  As she gazed at Carter’s strong profile, she thought she could probably give him everything. Fear flowed freely at what he’d do with her everything, if he’d stomp on it or wish she were something different.

  She swallowed when he took a big breath and blew it out. “Well, that’s my messed up my parents.” He swept the letter off the table and into his inside jacket pocket. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  With the recent seriousness of her thoughts, the reminders of Nana’s age and hurtful words about her stubbornness, Bri didn’t feel much like talking. The jazz ensemble began to play, and she grinned into the softening twilight, grateful she didn’t have to speak for a while.

  Two hours later, the ship pulled up to the dock and Carter led her down the gangplank to the sidewalk. His touch, the strength in his hands, the gentle manner with which he spoke, all woke something inside Bri she hadn’t known was sleeping.

  By the end of the week, they’d dined together every evening. They’d visited two more cemeteries. He’d filled his B&B for the grand opening—though he avoided conversation about the finer details of the festivities themselves—and she’d found the perfect little black dress to wear to his celebration.

  She stood in front of the mirror to put in a large pair of silver hoops, her thoughts running like a pack of wild wolves.

  Go, don’t go. Go, don’t go.

  She didn’t want to support Hammond House, but she did need to be at the opening for Carter. She’d oscillated back and forth between going and staying home for the past twelve hours.

  Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up. I really want you to come tonight, but I know it will be hard for you.