Bulletproof Billionaire

When Tony had pressed her, asking why Seth had stayed after everyone else had gone, Adrienne had told him about their date.

Tony warned her to be careful today. “You know how to keep your mouth shut,” he’d said. “I’m not so sure I trust that guy. So listen, don’t talk.”

Returning to the present, she realized Seth’s gaze was roaming over her body. He took his time, starting at her pink-painted toes peeking out of her multicolored espadrilles, up her bare calves to the pale-pink capri pants and on to the sleeveless top that barely covered her midriff.

She felt her body respond. The thrill that coiled through her and settled in her deepest core was shocking. She couldn’t stop the tightening of her breasts. Her nipples ached and her knees grew weak. Had she ever felt like this in the presence of a man before? She didn’t think so.

Like last night, she had the heady, reckless urge to flirt with him. “I supposed you think I’m overdressed.”

He smiled. “I do, but it’s more a matter of quantity than style.”

Her face flamed with heat as his meaning sunk in.

“Let’s go.”

“I can’t ride that thing.” Adrienne eyed the narrow leather seat and the powerful engine with apprehension.

For an instant Seth’s features hardened, but he quickly covered with a grin. “Sure you can, princess. There’s nothing like the freedom of a bike. All that power vibrating between your thighs, the speed, the feeling that nothing can hold you back.”

An unfamiliar yearning fluttered through her at his suggestive words. She had never ridden a motorcycle in her life. But she’d watched movies and seen kids on the streets and wondered. The idea of sitting with her body pressed against Seth Lewis’s back and her arms around his muscled abdomen while the wind whipped around them was seductive. Very seductive.

It wouldn’t be as much fun as it seemed—she knew that. Nothing ever was. But she wanted to try it.

She ran a hand down the side of her neck where a muscle twitched. “Okay. What do I do?”

Before she knew it she was wearing a helmet and sitting behind Seth, closer to him than she’d been to a man in a long, long time.

As he revved the Harley and maneuvered through the streets to the Interstate, Adrienne held on with all her might, the rumble of the engines echoing through her, Seth’s deep steady breaths reassuring her and his strong body shielding her from the wind.

She felt a new sensation. Her mind tentatively explored it just like her eyes explored the long, sinewy muscles of Seth’s arms as they controlled the powerful beast beneath her.

The sensation was vaguely familiar, like a long-for-gotten memory. She felt alive. She’d been numb for so long that her mind and her body felt like limbs that had been asleep. Prickly, aching, but alive. When had she last felt alive? Not in years. Certainly not since she’d realized how her father had betrayed her by forcing her to marry Marc DeBlanc.

Adrian Caldwell hadn’t held a gun to his daughter’s head, but he might as well have. Adrienne had always done her father’s bidding, just as her mother had. So when he’d told her that Marc DeBlanc would make a fine husband, she hadn’t questioned him.

After only a few months of marriage, Adrienne had fully realized what her father had done to her. She hadn’t married a young, successful lawyer; she’d married the infamous and legendary Cajun mob. DeBlanc was mob boss Jerome Senegal’s lawyer.

The first time DeBlanc slapped her was the last time he had touched her. Adrienne had agreed to play the perfect wife and hostess in public, but she’d moved out of his bedroom. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to mind. Eventually, she’d found out why.

Lost in bad memories, Adrienne was surprised when the motorcycle’s roar died. She looked around. They were beside Lake Pontchartrain, in the shell-covered parking lot of what appeared to be an old Cajun house on sticks.

Seth pulled off his helmet and chuckled.

She felt the ripple of his abdomen and her insides thrilled.

“You’re going to have to let go, princess,” he said over his shoulder.

She looked down. She was still holding on to him with all her might. “Sorry.”

He climbed off the Harley and held out his hand to her. She let him help her off. Then she took off her helmet and looked up to find him staring at her.

“My hair is a mess, I know.” She reached up to smooth it back into its bun, but he stopped her.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, I think.” She gave him a wry smile and pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “What is this place?”

“It’s called T-Jean’s. They have the best crawfish on the Pontchartrain, or so I’ve heard.”

They walked across the crunchy parking lot and over the rickety bridge to the house. The place’s only concession to commercialism was a big metal crawfish with dozens of Mardis Gras beads hung around its neck and dangling from its claws.

With a finger, Seth hooked a bracelet made of purple and green and gold beads. “Here. Hold out your hand.”

When she did he slid the bauble onto her wrist, right beside her Lady Rolex. She laughed and fingered the beads. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“It’s not a diamond tennis bracelet, but it goes with the decor.”

“It’s beautiful,” Adrienne said, an odd sadness swelling in the back of her throat. The worthless string of beads was probably the only gift she’d ever received that hadn’t been picked out by a secretary or a hired buyer. For that reason alone, it was worth more to her than Seth would ever know. She would treasure it beyond diamonds or pearls.

The raucous sound of a Zydeco band swelled as Seth pushed open the creaking door.

Adrienne stopped, disoriented, waiting for her eyes to adapt to the dark. The place was lit only with lanterns that bravely shone through the smoky interior. The band’s noise filled the room, but nobody seemed to be listening to them. People dressed in everything from ragbag throwaways to cocktail dresses sat around, talking loudly over the music, drinking and eating. The smell of spice and fish pervaded the air.

Seth put his arm around her waist and urged her forward. Bending, he whispered against her ear. “We’ll go out on the deck, where it’s quieter.”

Adrienne leaned a little closer to him. Everything he did, from a casual touch on her wrist to a breath of air against her ear, to a laugh that rippled the muscles of his belly, streaked through her the same way, stirring desires she had forgotten she could feel. Other people touched her hand, whispered to her, but Seth’s touch was different. He made her feel safe and cherished.

She was afraid to examine her feelings too closely. A dose of reality would come soon enough, she knew. Nobody was ever what he seemed.

Folks glanced up as they passed, but paid little attention to them. Out on the deck, with the door closed, the music was muffled.

“Allô, cher, what you be having?” a frizzy-haired waitress asked.

Adrienne looked around for a menu, but Seth spoke right up.

“Crawfish and beer.”

“I don’t drink beer,” Adrienne said, but Seth just laughed.

“You do today,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking out over the dark, calm waters of the lake.

Adrienne looked, too. The shack was tucked into a corner of the lake lined with mangrove trees. A warm breeze lifted her hair and carried the smell of rain, although the sky was clear and blue. She heard some sort of animal grunt, then the flapping of wings caught her attention as a flock of white birds took to the sky.

She reached up automatically to rub her neck and realized it wasn’t aching. She arched it and shrugged her shoulders. She’d lost at least some of the tension that had become a part of her. She glanced at Seth’s strong profile. How had a motorcycle ride done what thousands of dollars in massage therapy had failed to do? She smiled and shook her head.

“Tuppence for your thoughts, princess.”

She laughed shyly. “I was just noticing that the knot in my neck is gone. I should hire you to be my masseur.”