Bulletproof Billionaire

Still, the softness of her lips, the drifting down of her long-lashed eyelids, told him she hungered for the touch of a man. And given Senegal’s treatment of her, Seth figured if he showed her a bit of gentle respect, she would be putty in his hands.

Every protective instinct in him had risen at Senegal’s treatment of her, but he couldn’t deny the question that remained.

Was she a willing participant in the mob? Was she an excellent actress who underneath her delicate mask was cut from the same hard calculating mold as the woman who had lured his father into her web of seduction? He pushed aside the doubts as he wrapped his fingers around her nape and bent his head to kiss her.

When his lips touched hers, she gasped and pushed at him. “No.”

Startled, he withdrew.

Her perfectly manicured hand flew to her mouth, and for an instant sheer panic shone in her eyes.

Adrienne took a long breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Seth studied her and she could almost hear his thoughts. They echoed through her, too. What was the big deal? They’d flirted, and he’d tried to kiss her. There was no reason to panic.

But he didn’t know that it had been years since a man had kissed her. A few had tried, but after Marc, Adrienne had thought she’d never again be tempted by a man’s kiss. She’d panicked not because Seth had tried to kiss her, but because she’d wanted him to. The idea that she was vulnerable to a man’s attentions frightened her.

“You should be going, Mr. Lewis.” She pulled herself to her full five feet three inches and lifted her chin, pasting on her best serene, perfect-hostess smile.

He cocked a brow. “I’m free for dinner if you’re busy for lunch. Or lunch the next day, or dinner, or—”

She smiled reluctantly and shook her head at his tenacity. Why not? From what he’d said he would only be in New Orleans a few weeks at the most. She longed to be in the company of a young handsome man, even if just for lunch. The last time a man had looked at her with such open admiration in his eyes had been her senior year at Loyola University. He was the brother of one of her sorority sisters, and she’d come very close to falling in love with him. But her dreams of happily ever after had been harshly cut short when her father had announced that she would marry Marc DeBlanc.

Now, older and wiser, she knew she’d been naive. She’d watched her sorority sisters planning their own weddings and had fallen in love with the idea of love.

Still, the way her pulse sped up at Seth’s charming flirtation reminded her of those carefree days, and she actually found herself thinking about what she should wear. “Lunch tomorrow will be nice, Mr. Lewis,” she said, edging away from him.

“Good. Say noon?”

She blushed. “Make it one. I have a commitment in the morning. We could meet—”

“I’ll pick you up. Wear something a little more casual than that.”

Adrienne was still smiling as she closed the door. She leaned her forehead against it for a second. Had she really agreed to have lunch with Seth Lewis, a man she didn’t even know?

“Adrienne? Is everything all right?”

Adrienne turned and nodded at the owner of the pleasant New Orleans accent. Jolie Sheffield was one of Adrienne’s few trusted friends. The daughter of the sous chef at The Caldwell, her father’s flagship hotel, Jolie had been Adrienne’s childhood companion, playing with her in the kitchens and hiding in the laundry chutes of the hotel when they were children.

Now, thanks to Adrienne, Jolie owned her own catering business.

“The food was perfect, as usual,” Adrienne said, giving Jolie a hug. “Thank you.”

Jolie smiled and sketched a mock bow. “Pleased to be of service, ma’am.”

“Stop it,” Adrienne laughed. “Is there a cup of coffee left in the kitchen?”

“Probably, but I can’t stay. I have a brunch in the morning, and I haven’t even started on the brioche.” Jolie hugged Adrienne again, and slipped an envelope into her hands.

Adrienne’s fingers curved around the bulky package. “Jolie, this is too much! I told you, there’s no rush in paying back the loan.”

“Oh, please.” Jolie’s straight black hair slid over her forehead and she tossed it back with a shake of her head. “Let’s not go through this every time. It’s only fair I pay you back a percentage of Cater Caper’s profits—especially since you’re not charging me interest. I’m more successful than I ever dreamed I’d be, and I have you to thank for it. You were the one who told me there was nothing I couldn’t do.” Jolie’s dark eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Good words for you to remember, too. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Adrienne swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Nothing she couldn’t do. Did Jolie suspect why Adrienne needed cash?

Jolie’s dark eyes sparkled as she gave Adrienne a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now I’ve got to go,” she said, and looked Adrienne in the eye. “Be careful.”

“I will, I promise. I always am.”

“Call me.”

Alone in her multimillion-dollar mansion, Adrienne clutched the thick envelope to her breast. On paper, Adrienne was one of the wealthiest women in New Orleans. But in truth, the only money that was really hers was the cash that she secreted away, mostly on her own, but occasionally with the help of friends like Jolie.

Tonight she was twenty-five hundred dollars closer to freedom.

SETH DROVE TOWARD his apartment, enjoying the feel of the powerful Mercedes engine through the steering wheel. He drew in a huge breath. He just might have done it. In the privacy of his car, he slipped a finger beneath the starched collar of his shirt. He couldn’t wait to get home to his fancy Warehouse District apartment, where he could change into a worn, comfortable pair of jeans and relax.

Pulling out his Confidential-issue phone as he maneuvered toward Magazine Street, he speed-dialed Conrad Burke’s cell.

“Burke? Yeah. Interesting evening. Apparently Jerome Senegal set up this highly promoted and advertised charity auction for the sole purpose of having a private meeting with District Attorney Sebastion Primeaux. The D.A. spent a half hour closeted in the dead husband’s study with Senegal.”

Seth heard babies crying in the background. He’d caught the head of New Orleans Confidential at home with his six-month-old twins.

“The D.A. Interesting. We’ve suspected Primeaux, but nobody has ever put the two together in private before. Good work. How did it go with Adrienne DeBlanc?”

“Smashingly,” Seth said wryly. “I’m not clear on her relationship to Senegal and the others, but we have a date tomorrow.” His body reacted in anticipation of seeing the beautiful widow again. “Don’t worry. If she knows anything, I’ll get it.”

JEROME SENEGAL WAITED impatiently in his limousine while Remy “Swamp Rat” Brun and Jacques Vermillon made contact with Gonzalez and his guards. Senegal chuckled at the memory of the frightened look on Bas Primeaux’s face. Then his mouth twisted.

“Hah. Primeaux ought to be scared, the pervert,” he said as the flicker of a match lit the darkness, filling the car with the smell of sulfur. He puffed at his cigar as Tony Arsenault held the match.

“No problem with Customs?”

Senegal settled back in the glove-leather seat. “No problem. If Gonzalez has everything ready on his end, we can move forward. Whoever engineered the raid on the McDonough Club will be back where he started.”

“Here they come,” Arsenault said. “Want me to pat Gonzalez down?”

“No, he’s fine. Even if he has a weapon he will not use it. He may be ruthless and cruel, but he’s not stupid. He kills me—number one, he’s dead, right?”

Arsenault laughed.

“And number two, his supply of guns is cut off.”

The limousine door opened and a lean dark man with a pockmarked, ravaged face and a well-groomed goatee slid in, bringing with him the smell of the wharf.

“Señor Senegal. It is a pleasure, as always.” Ricardo Gonzalez smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth. They reminded Senegal of an alligator.

“You’ve worked out a method to provide me with additional inventory, I hope.” Senegal rolled his cigar between his fingers.

“Si. I was gratified to learn that you were expanding. We have much coffee in Nilia, and we are only too happy to share. For an appropriate price, of course.”