Bourbon Street Blues (13 page)

“Damn it, Holly,” he said tightly, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I, Parker. But it did, and if it’s okay by you, I’ll just deal with this by myself. I don’t need you to hold my hand. I don’t need you worrying about me. Eventually, I’ll be fine.”

God, please let her be fine. Please let the pain that was twisting her stomach into knots ease away day by day. Please let her find her balance again. Let her enjoy her life the way it was before Parker had wandered into it.

“If you’ll just let me call a cab,” she said, “I’ll get out of your hair and we can each move on with our life. Forget all about this.”

“I won’t forget you,” he said, his voice tearing
from him like a groan. “Wouldn’t be able to even if I tried.”

She forced a smile. “See? There you go, saying something nice that doesn’t change a thing.”

“Holly—”

“
Please,
Parker,” she interrupted quickly, desperate now to escape with what little dignity she had left. “If I mean anything to you at all, you’ll just let me get a cab and go home.”

His blue eyes fixed on her as though he were trying to read her mind, her soul. But everything she was had already been laid out in the open for him. She still saw regret in his eyes and knew that if she didn’t get out of that house and into the comfort of her own space soon, she was going to embarrass them both by wailing.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I’d rather not—”

“I said,” Parker repeated flatly, with absolutely no hint as to what he was feeling, “I’ll take you home.”

He wasn’t going to budge, Holly knew. The man had
stubborn
written all over his face. And in the end, did it really make a difference how she got home?

“Fine.” Maybe he needed to play the gentleman to the last—and if so, she’d agree. Anything, she thought. Anything to get her out of his house and away from his blue eyes, so full of what-might-have-beens.

P
ARKER STAYED AWAY
from the Hotel Marchand for the next few days. Instead he burrowed into his office at the jazz café and worked hard to forget about Holly.

I love you.

He threw his pen down on top of the inventory sheet and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

I love you.

He heard Holly’s voice over and over again in his mind. He saw her eyes and the small flash of pain dulling the gray when he couldn’t say what she so wanted to hear.

I love you
.

“God.”

He’d like to believe that she was telling him the truth. To believe that love—real love—could happen so quickly. He’d like to believe that Holly meant what she said. That she looked at him and saw a man she wanted to spend her life with.

But how the hell could he?

“No,” he said out loud, more because he needed to hear the sound of his own voice in the suffocating silence than for any other reason. “I won’t risk it again. I can’t.”

Sighing, he sat up and reached for his pen again. Maybe this time he could forget about Holly by losing himself in work.

H
OLLY TOOK
some time off.

She used her sprained ankle as an excuse and it worked well with Tommy, who didn’t question her. But she knew the truth. She knew that she was hiding. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to face Parker again. Not yet, anyway.

Especially not
now
.

“God really does have a sense of humor,” she whispered as she looked down at the plastic stick in her hand.

The plus sign was unmistakable.

She set it down on the bathroom counter, right beside the three other sticks, all displaying the same result.

“Pregnant.”

What was she supposed to do now? Should she tell Parker? Didn’t he have a right to know? Or would the knowledge of this baby only make things worse? He’d already made it clear he didn’t want Holly in his life. Why should he want her child?

Her heart started to pound and a ball of nerves skittered uneasily in the pit of her stomach.

Her child.

She was going to be a mother.

At last, she would have a family of her own.

Someone to love. Someone to love her back.

Someone to build dreams around.

She and her child would live in that great old house and expand their family, welcoming other children, building lives that would be full and rich—everything she used to dream of.

Staring into the mirror, she saw the worry and excitement tangling together in her own eyes. Funny, she’d spent so much energy hoping she wasn’t pregnant that she hadn’t for a moment considered how wonderful it would be to find out she
was.

Her hands dropped to her flat belly and rested protectively there, as if she could somehow soothe the tiny child within. It’ll be okay, she thought. We’ll be okay. You’ll see.

She took a long, deep breath and slowly, so very slowly, found a smile. Her baby’s father might want to disappear from her life—but she would have her child.

Always.

When the doorbell rang, a quick jolt of hope rose up inside her in spite of everything. Maybe it was Parker. Maybe he had come to his senses and realized that the love she offered him was a gift, not a trap.

She swept the pregnancy tests into the trash can and gave her hair a quick check in the mirror, then turned and hurried as best she could to the front door.

She opened the door to find the last person she was expecting to see.

“Ah. The little jazz singer,” Frannie LeBourdais purred as she blithely blew past Holly to stalk into the living room. “It’s time we had a little talk.”

F
RANNIE DROPPED HER
crocodile bag and a manila folder onto the magazine-strewn coffee table and let her gaze slide around the small room. Overstuffed furniture, tacky little knickknacks and a view out the front window of a yard that needed landscaping.

Not very impressive, but it cheered her immensely.

“What are you doing here?” Holly demanded.

“Why, Holly—you don’t mind if I call you Holly, do you?” Frannie asked, carefully lowering herself to sit on the edge of a sofa cushion. “After all, we’ve known each other a very long time.”

Holly walked across the room, limping slightly. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh.” Frannie waved one hand to dismiss that statement. “Now, this is just between us girls, so let’s be frank, shall we? I remember you. You sang at my wedding.”

“Yes.”

“And we met the night
before
the wedding, as well.” Just recalling that moment filled Frannie with a fury she was hard-pressed to tamp down.

Once she had received a complete file from her private investigator, she’d remembered everything. How she and Justine had been discovered by a nobody singer. Frannie had worried that the little bitch would spill the truth to Parker and ruin a match she had wanted very much.

Odd that now, ten years later, the same little bitch was still a thorn in Frannie’s side. And the threat she represented was still very real. If Holly Carlyle were to tell Parker about her indiscretions, Frannie wouldn’t have a chance in hell of winning back her husband.

Well, enough was enough. She’d get rid of this woman—finally—and move on.

“That was a long time ago,” Holly said.

“Yes, it was,” Frannie agreed, standing. Damned if she’d look up at the other woman. “And yet, here we are.”

“What I’m wondering is, why you’re here.”

“Easily answered,” Frannie said, sliding the folder out from under her bag. She watched Holly speculatively. “I’ve actually come to bring you a message from Parker.”

“Parker?”

“My husband?” Frannie prompted unnecessarily. Oh, this was more fun than she’d expected. Allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of her mouth, she continued. “You remember? The man you were having sex with?”

Holly winced.

“He doesn’t want to see you anymore.”

She flinched, but stood her ground, and Frannie had to admire her just a little. Not that it changed a thing.

“He sent you here?”

“Certainly,” she lied. “You don’t think Parker would bother himself with these little details, do you?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Frannie handed her the file, walked to the front window and then turned around to face her again. “In some part of you, you know that Parker never really took you seriously. You had to realize that a man like him would look at you as…a distraction. You see, Parker and I have an ‘arrangement.’ Our marriage is more…fluid than most. We find other…companionship…where we choose, but we never lose sight of the fact that we’re married.”

“Strange.” Holly gripped the folder tightly, but didn’t look inside. She swayed slightly on her feet, as if her world was rocking, and Frannie was forced to hide another small smile of victory. “If your
marriage is so sound, I wonder why the reports of your upcoming divorce are such big news?”

“Please. No one believes what they read in the newspapers.” Checking the polish on her nails, she added, “I admit, after our last disagreement, Parker was a bit hasty and spoke to a lawyer, but that’s all going to be sorted out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As for my preference for female lovers, Parker knows all about that.” A lie, but a good one. How would Holly know it wasn’t the truth? No reason for her to go crying off to Parker if she thought he already knew. “So Parker wanted you to know that there’s no reason to go running off to him, trying to salvage what’s left of your ‘relationship.’”

“I see. And why is it Parker sent you to me?”

“Oh, Holly.” Frannie clucked her tongue and shook her head sadly. “Do you really think he wanted to involve himself in what could possibly become a very embarrassing scene?”

No, he wouldn’t, Holly realized. She remembered the strain on his face when she’d proclaimed her love. Remembered with perfect clarity that he’d looked as though he would rather be anywhere else at that particular moment. Holly fought against acknowledging the pain that memory brought to her.

What would he think, she wondered, if he knew about the coming baby? Would he be horrified? Sad? God, she would never know.

“And what’s this?” Holly lifted the file, inwardly pleased that her hand didn’t shake.

“Take a look,” Frannie invited her.

She did. Opening the folder, she flipped through the pages tucked inside and felt a chill sweep over her. Someone had looked into her background. Peered into the shadows of her life and laid her mistakes out for Frannie to pore over.

But was it just Frannie? Had Parker read the report on her life? Had they laughed together over a woman like her professing to love him?

Hurt and fury constricted her chest and made breathing a real challenge. Was this his answer to being loved? Had he really sent his wife here to tell her to go away? Did he think so little of her? Of what they’d shared so briefly? “Did Parker do this? Did he have me investigated?”

“Actually, I did.”

“You?”

“My dear.” The tall, elegant woman laughed shortly and bent to snatch up her purse from the coffee table. “You should know that I will do whatever is necessary to protect my marriage. To keep what is
mine. At the moment, Parker is still thinking of you fondly—however misguided those feelings may be. You see, he hasn’t yet seen these papers.”

Relief, sweet and sharp, slapped at Holly. At least she had this much. He hadn’t stooped to digging into a past that had nothing to do with him.

“But,” Frannie added, “should you dare approach my husband again, you can be sure I’ll give him a copy of those reports.”

“Why would you bother? If Parker is over me, as you say, what’s there to worry about?”

“Oh, if I’ve given you the impression that you actually
worry
me, then you’re mistaken.” Frannie looked at her with a sympathetic smirk. “This file is only…insurance. In case he should change his mind and approach you again. Should that happen, I’ll see that he receives a copy of these files. I’ll make certain that he knows you for exactly what you are. A pitiful, social-climbing, money-grabber with no more thought for Parker than you would have for any other man who is too good for you.”

“He won’t believe you.”

“Oh, I think he will.” Frannie gave her another smile. “But there’s more. If you don’t stay clear of Parker, I’ll see to it that this file is sent to Social Services.”

Holly inhaled sharply.

“I see you understand me. I’m sure the state of Louisiana would consider your past unsavory enough to keep you from your dream of being a foster parent.”

“They’re juvenile records,” Holly muttered. “Sealed. How did you—and how did you know about my plans?”

“My investigator is very thorough. You’ve taken classes. You’ve already started the necessary paperwork.” Frannie gave her a cold stare. “And I can end it all.”

She could. Holly’s juvenile record was sealed and shouldn’t have been a problem with the state. But if Frannie made good on her threat…

“Blackmail?”

“Such an ugly word.” Frannie looked as if she had just sniffed something unpleasant. “Accurate, but ugly.”

“Why are you doing this?” Holly hated the desperation she heard in her voice.

“My goodness, you
are
dim, aren’t you?” Frannie shook her head. “No matter. I believe I’ve been quite clear on that score, but allow me to elaborate once again. You’re nothing to me, Ms. Carlyle. Less than nothing. But should you become a bigger irritant than you already are, I shall take whatever steps I have to to rid myself of you.”

“An awful lot of bother for someone who’s less than nothing.”

She smiled. “I’m certain Parker would find your file very entertaining reading, if that’s any consolation. Discovering that you spent time in juvenile hall for shoplifting—not to mention the arrest for public nudity… Really, a less than stellar résumé for someone who wants to care for foster children.”

Okay, now the anger churning inside her overtook the misery and disappointment. Holly wouldn’t have her past dragged out and examined by anyone. And she for damn sure wasn’t going to stand still to be insulted in her own living room. She might have been shocked into silence before, but that was over now and she was more than willing to fight back. “I was a kid. And hungry. I ‘shoplifted’ a loaf of bread.”

“Very sad, I’m sure. Practically Dickensian.”

“And the public nudity charge—” Holly slapped one hand against the incriminating file. “I flashed my breasts for a string of beads on Mardi Gras—just like every other woman in New Orleans. It means
nothing.
”

“You poor thing. You actually believe that, don’t you?” Frannie sighed then tucked her envelope under her left arm. “You’ve entered a battle completely unarmed. Your background is ridiculous. Your present isn’t much better. A singer with questionable morals
trying to sleep her way to respectability? I don’t think so. You couldn’t possibly have thought that a
slut
could worm her way into the James family.”

Holly flushed with a red-hot surge of fury that nearly blinded her as she stared at the so-composed woman opposite her. No wonder Parker didn’t want to hear anything about “love.” Holly was ready to slug this woman after only ten minutes, and he’d spent ten years married to her! If that hadn’t scarred Parker, it would be a miracle. To get her own way, Frannie was prepared to shatter Holly’s life. Not only would she lose Parker, she could lose the dream she’d been nurturing for years.

Her hands fisted on the file folder holding the more embarrassing moments of her life and she looked into a pair of icy-blue eyes.

Nothing was going to touch this woman. No insult. No warmth. Nothing.

And yet she heard herself strike back, anyway. “Sluts aren’t welcome but lesbians are?”

Frannie flinched but quickly regained her composure. “Ah, a street cat, trying to swipe her claws at a target far too high for her. Pitiable, but certainly understandable.”

Holly clenched her back teeth so tightly, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find they’d turned
to powder. “You’ve delivered your message. And your threats. I think it’s time you left.”

“I’ll be leaving soon. There’s just one more bit of business we need to clear up.”

“What else could you possibly have to say that concerns me?”

“Your dreams.” Frannie’s voice was now falsely soothing, and Holly went on full alert.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know all about your dreams, Holly. You want to buy that monstrosity of a house on Annunciation for an underprivileged litter of kiddies.”

Holly glared at the woman. “What about it?”

“I can help make that possible.”

“Why would you?”

“Call it a gift for favors done.”

“What favors?” God, she couldn’t even believe she was asking that question. Morbid curiosity? This must be what striking a deal with the devil felt like.

“You stay away from Parker, even if he comes crawling back, you help me regain the affections of my husband,” Frannie said slyly, “and I will buy that house outright and hand it to you.”

Stunned, Holly just stared at her. She couldn’t believe this whole conversation. The woman had gone from extortion to bribery in the blink of an eye.

That one fact made her realize the desperation buried beneath Frannie’s cool sophistication. Maybe Frannie was telling the truth about Parker—maybe not. But if nothing else, this uncomfortable little visit had underscored what Holly already knew.

She and Parker might as well be on two different planets.

Parker had allowed this vicious woman to ruin his chances for a life with someone who truly loved him. Holly had started out with nothing, but she wouldn’t let anyone stop her from realizing her dreams.

Knowing that gave her the courage to tell Frannie exactly what she thought of her offer.

“Take your file and your private investigator and get out of my life.” Holly sneered at her. “I can’t be bought. Or paid off. Or blackmailed. Do what you want with this ‘information’ you’ve gathered. I’m not ashamed of who I am. And I don’t care who you tell.”

“You really are a stupid girl, aren’t you?”

“Just leave. I’m not interested in playing your games.”

Frannie’s eyes darkened.

“You can’t hurt me,” Holly said, and walked to the front door. Turning the knob, she threw the door open and stood there like a sentinel. “So do whatever you want with the information you’ve scrounged. Do
your worst. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t even exist. So if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave my house now.”

She could almost see the steam coming off the top of Frannie’s head. Apparently the ice queen actually did have a temper, after all.

With a few long strides, Frannie reached the door. She stopped to look Holly up and down dismissively. “You were no more than a blip on my radar, Holly. And now? You’re not even that. I tried to help you, but some people simply don’t know a good thing when they hear it.”

Holly’s fingers tightened on the door. “You’re still here.”

With an indignant huff, Frannie stalked from the apartment. Holly shut the door quietly behind her. Throwing the lock, she braced her back on the door and slowly slid to the floor. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, dropped her head on her knees and cried.

For Parker.

For herself.

For the baby he would never know.

P
ARKER’S DREAMS
tortured him.

Holly rose over him, her fingers trailing down his naked chest. Eyes closed, he saw her as she had been
the last time they were together. Hair wild and loose, eyes flashing, mouth curved in a smile that was both sensuous and innocent.

He wanted her desperately. And even though he knew he was dreaming, he forced himself to stay in that foggy half sleep that would keep Holly in his arms forever.