Obsession. Tori Carrington
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He put down his briefcase and pulled the elastic fastener over his head, tousling his hair.
“Uh-oh. The smile’s gone.”
Josie couldn’t help giving him another. He looked like a breath of fresh air in a stiflingly hot room. He was as welcome as he was unexpected.
“Conference let out for the day?” she asked, counting out the money then returning the lockbox to its spot behind her.
“No. Just decided Gasket Technology of the Future wasn’t going to do it for me this afternoon. So I decided to play hooky.”
Hooky. How youthful the word sounded. And how carefree. Had she ever played hooky from anything? School? Work? She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever shrugged off her responsibilities and given herself over to spontaneity.
She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever wanted to.
But somehow standing there looking into Drew’s face…well, she wished she could escape from the worries of her life for a few precious hours. After all, it wasn’t like the worries would go anywhere. They’d still be there when she got back.
Philippe came down the stairs.
Josie looked at Drew. “So did you have anything planned to fill your day?”
He looked mildly surprised by her question. “Actually, I was going to try to tempt you into becoming my private tour guide for the afternoon, but I didn’t think I stood a snowball’s chance in hell.”
Josie edged out from behind the counter. “Philippe, mind the store for a couple hours. It looks like snow to me.”
DREW COULDN’T BELIEVE his streak of good luck. Not only had Josie agreed to stroll through Jackson Square and then down Bourbon Street with him, she actually appeared relaxed and, yes, happy.
Why she’d decided to come out with him, he couldn’t be sure. But he wasn’t about to tempt fate by questioning whatever plan the gods had in mind.
“So you grew up at the hotel,” he said quietly, watching the play of dappled sunlight on her tight, black curls.
She nodded then watched her feet as they walked. She wore flat sandals with straps that wrapped around her ankles, the ring of shells around her left ankle clinking as she moved. “In essence, yes.” She squinted at him. “And you? I mean, I know you were born in Kansas City, but you haven’t really said anything beyond that.”
Despite the heat of the day, Drew slid his hands into his slacks pockets, to hide the fact that he’d clenched them. “Nothing much to tell, really. My father left my mother before I was born. Although I think you actually have to be a couple before one can leave the other.” He chuckled without humor.
“So you think your mom lied to you?”
He stared at her. “Yes. Yes, I do. I think she’d had a one-night stand, or a brief relationship with someone, someone who never had a clue she was pregnant. Then she blamed everything on him.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Drew was curious. “Oh?”
Josie smiled softly. “Yes. The identity of my father is as sketchy as yours, and my mother always cursed him, although they’d never been married. Granme used to say something about my mother having dated one man too many.” She shook her head. “I never understood exactly what she meant until I got older.”
Drew was surprised by the lack of bitterness with which she shared her past.
“Do you and your mom get along now?” she asked him.
“No. She died five years ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He lightly grasped her arm to prevent her from running into a street mime painted in silver and dressed to look like a statue.
She said, “My mother’s still alive. Living somewhere in Chicago, I think. She hasn’t been in contact with the family for over fifteen years. I couldn’t even find her to tell her Granme had passed.”
“You seem okay with that.”
Josie shrugged, her eyes clear and lovely. “I am, I guess. I mean, my granme never excused her actions when she left her old family behind to start a new family, but she never cursed her either. Merely said that everyone had their path to walk, and that was hers.”
“While yours was with your grandmother at Hotel Josephine.”
She smiled at him, challenging the sun for brightness. “Yes.”
Josie had turned them down a side street and he followed, noticing the quietness of the road compared to the constant busyness of Bourbon. The clap of her sandals sounded against the pavement.
“And the hotel…” She drifted off, staring at some undefined point in front of them. “The hotel is almost like family to me. I’ve lived in it for so long, become acquainted with her ghosts, polished her banisters, mopped her floors so many times that—”
She stopped not because she’d run out of words. But rather because she’d looked at Drew and seen in his eyes the sudden urge to kiss her.
And before he knew it, he was doing just that.
He wasn’t sure what had inspired the move. It could have been the way she spoke with such love and longing, her pink, bowed lips moving, her eyes as warm as melted brown sugar. Whatever the reason, his kiss had little to do with his ulterior motives and everything to do with the woman who blinked at him in surprise and wonder.
Then she easily returned his kiss.
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