Even in bed, her ex-husband and ex-boyfriends had never spoken to her in such a manner. She’d once suggested spicing things up a little in the bedroom and Saxon had bought her a jar of chocolate body paint, but they had never used it. He’d read the label and decided it sounded too messy. She couldn’t imagine Travis buying or needing body paint to mix things up; she reckoned he had his own bag of tricks and they’d be far messier, far dirtier than body paint. Whether she liked it or not, she was curious. A hot flush spread through her at the thought, her nipples were hard, and between her thighs she tingled with awareness as she actually contemplated running out onto Bourbon Street and chasing him down.
What was wrong with her? Maybe it was because she hadn’t had sex in forever. Her bitter split with Saxon had put her off men, but she’d thought her vibrator did a pretty good job of satisfying her sexual appetite. Then again, she guessed nothing matched the real thing, and without a doubt Travis’s real thing would be impressive. She swallowed and closed her eyes and…shook her head and opened them again.
What was she doing thinking about his penis?
She’d only just met the guy that afternoon and she didn’t even like him. Who cares if he looked like Chris Hemsworth’s dark-haired brother in leather? Bad boys had never been her weakness.
“Are you okay, Billie?”
She sucked in a breath, summoned a smile and looked up at Rolley, who now stood in front of her. “Yep. All good. Did you make a sale?” She gestured toward the front of the gallery where Rolley’s cutlery and crockery sculptures were displayed.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “Not yet, but the ladies are staying in town a few more days and promised to come back.”
“That’s really great.” She tried to sound enthusiastic because she was—all sales, even potential ones, were to be celebrated—but Travis had knocked the wind out of her, and she couldn’t focus on anything except his offer to keep her company later. Without a doubt he wasn’t offering to share a cup of coffee and some cookies. Whenever he looked at her it was with heat and intent, as if she were dessert and he wanted to eat her up.
“Who was that guy?” Rolley asked, sitting down on the bench beside her.
“Oh, Travis?” she said, trying to sound nonchalant when she felt anything but. “He’s the new landlord of the building. Well, one of them.”
Rolley frowned. “What was he doing here? Is he going to increase your rent?”
Billie tried to laugh, but it came out more like a defeated sigh. If only that was the worst of it. She could deal with landlord issues if only the landlord in question didn’t make every cell in her body swelter. “Right now he’s staying here while he tries to convince the other owners to sell the property.”
“Who are the other owners?”
“Ever heard of the Deacons of Bourbon Street?”
Rolley’s eyes widened, and a look of horror flashed across his face. He’d lived in New Orleans all his life, and his expression told Billie he knew them all too well. “He’s one of them?”
She nodded. “You knew the building was owned by Mr. Lombard—they call him Priest. Well, he died and left his property to four bikers apparently. I would have thought he’d leave it to his daughter—so did she, and she assured me nothing would change, but…” Billie’s voice drifted off as she remembered her conversation with Sophie and the man she’d called Ajax that afternoon. He hadn’t seemed too keen on the art gallery either.
“Hey, it’ll be all right.” Rolley put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side before she realized what he was doing. It felt like a hug from an old friend, but she knew his words were empty. He couldn’t guarantee things would be okay even if he wanted them to be. What kind of chance would he stand against four rough, mean biker dudes?
Still, his sentiments were nice, and she appreciated them. That was Rolley all over—nice. He was also cute in a surfer, boy-next-door kind of way. And he was one of the most talented artists she’d ever met. He could make ordinary everyday household odds and ends into the most unique and beautiful pieces of art. She knew he liked her, as he asked her out almost every time he came into the gallery, but she’d told him she wasn’t ready to date again. Still, he didn’t seem to know how to take no for an answer. Only half an hour ago, he’d asked her to go to Café Du Monde with him later that night for beignets.
She adored beignets and couldn’t imagine ever tiring of them, but she didn’t want to give Rolley the wrong idea. Nothing had changed; she still wasn’t ready for another relationship, but if her body’s reaction to Travis was anything to go by…maybe she was ready for sex.
“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?”
She jumped at Rolley’s words. Had she said the sex thing out loud? Lord, she hoped not. As sweet as Rolley was, looking at him didn’t make her insides tremble the way they did when she looked at Travis. Not that she planned on having sex with him either. She might be feeling horny, but she had a few requirements before she took her clothes off for a guy—the most important being that she actually liked him.
Maybe having Rolley stay over would be a good thing. Maybe if Travis thought she and Rolley were an item he’d back off with his wicked tongue. She dismissed this idea almost as soon as she thought it—for one thing, she didn’t want to use Rolley, and two, she doubted Travis would care if she were taken.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Billie slipped out of Rolley’s grasp and stood, hoping the quake in her voice didn’t give her away. As long as she didn’t give Travis any indication of interest, she would be fine. And safe. “Are you still okay to look after the gallery while I work on Saturday night?”
“Of course, you know I’d do anything for you.” He smiled goofily at her, and she tried to smile back.
Two or three nights a week she worked for a local tour company, giving ghost tours around the French Quarter. The income she got subsidized what she made at the gallery and meant she could pay her bills and buy food, but she also loved the work. It meant meeting new people all the time and sharing her love of this great place; besides, she’d always had a fascination with ghost stories.
“Thanks.”
A young couple had entered the gallery and were admiring the painting Travis had seemed taken with earlier. Billie walked over to them hoping they’d be the chatty type that could help take her mind off the biker, the building and her carnal thoughts.
“Hiya,” she said brightly as she approached. “That’s one of my favorite paintings.” Truthfully they were all her favorites.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve always loved mermaids.” The woman leaned in close and grinned at the detail. “How much is it?”
“That one’s five hundred dollars, but the artist is also happy to take commissions if you have a color scheme you like or want your mermaid to look like someone in particular.”
“That’s cute,” said the woman, looking to her man.
He laughed. “Do you want to get one that looks like you? Or do you really like this one?”
“I love it.” The sparkle in her eyes and in the diamond on her ring finger told Billie she’d made a sale. Lorna’s artwork was one of her biggest sellers; she couldn’t wait to call her and tell her to come and collect her earnings.
“Great.” Billie took the painting down off the wall and wrapped it in a layer of delicate tissue and then some bubble wrap for protection, happy to have something to occupy herself. The couple pottered around the rest of the gallery, bought one of Rolley’s cutlery animals, and then went off to have dinner in Jackson Square.
The rest of the evening dragged. Although Billie was doing what she loved, talking with the locals and tourists that came into the gallery to admire the art, she kept glancing up at the entrance, on the lookout for Travis Sinclair. As much as she told herself she didn’t care, she couldn’t help wondering what he was getting up to out there. Was he dining at one of her favorite restaurants? No, she couldn’t imagine him in a place like Soho or Muriel’s; he’d likely gone next door to drink and chat up chicks at The Priory. Or to a strip club.