dragging me around?”
“Why, Cousin Juliet, you little ol’ tease, you.” Noticing a lock of hair that had almost worked itself loose from her tightly pulled back ’do, he leaned close to hook it with his finger, flashing her a big ole wolfish grin when her predictable recoil tugged it free. The liberated tress immediately swelled in volume and grew surprisingly wavy. “What a card y’are, pretendin’ you’ve forgotten how insistent you were to watch me in action.” He wrapped the hair around and around one finger and rubbed it absently with his thumb as he look over at Dora. “She’s such a kidder. I tried telling her I had work to do, but would she listen? No, ma’am. She kept beggin’ me and beggin’ me to bring her along, rhapsodizing on and on about what a golden opportunity it would be to observe the best at work.” He gave a modest shrug. “What could I do?”
“Actually,” Juliet said coolly, “I believe it was you who touted yourself as the best. And I don’t recall begging to go anywhere with you. Let go of my hair, Beauregard.”
He unwound the strands from his fingers while Dora commented wryly, “Y’all aren’t exactly kissin’ cousins, are ya?” The thought seemed to please her.
Beau’s gaze went unerringly to Juliet’s full, unpainted lips. Why, the situation practically demanded he capture a little taste, and he found himself leaning toward her. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t say that at all.” This was strictly in the name of the cause, of course.
“Well, I would.” Juliet slid out of reach off the far side of her barstool and stood facing them, her posture erect, the errant curl dangling down over her eye. “Dora, you’re an exceedingly perceptive woman. Now, excuse me a moment, won’t you? I’ll just go fix my hair.”
“She hates to get mussed,” Beau murmured, but his self-congratulatory smile faded when Juliet disappeared down a dim hallway and he realized he’d been watching her every step of the way. He turned to Dora, all business. “Here’s my card. I’m going to write down my cell and my home phone number on it, too. I want to hear from you the minute Clyde Lydet shows up. It’s important, Dora.”
Then he gave her a grin. “Why don’t you give me your home number, too, sugar, and I’ll give you a call as soon as this case is over. We’ll get together.”
He exchanged lazy, flirtatious comments with the waitress and watched the newest stripper until Juliet reappeared. The instant she materialized out of the gloom, he rose to his feet, ready to leave. And if there was an inexplicable sense of relief in seeing her hair all skimmed tightly back into place again, he didn’t address it.
Cousin Juliet, say hi to Dora. Say hi to Charleen, Cousin Juliet . Juliet gazed stonily at the scenery flashing by as Beau raced his precious GTO through the city streets. Hey, Tammi Mae. Meet my Cousin Jules . What she wouldn’t give to tell Lil’ Abner here what she thought of his aw-shucks routine.
At first it had been amusing, but it had rapidly palled. There had even been one reckless moment in the last bar he’d dragged her to when she’d nearly smacked her palm against a portion of her anatomy an Astor Lowell never even mentioned , and invited him to Kiss this, Cousin Beau .
But of course she hadn’t.
Her control should make her proud: she had remained true to her breeding, to Grandmother’s upbringing. So why did she feel so sour instead?
They rolled to a stop at a red light, the threatening grumble of the GTO’s pipes the only sound to break the silence that had permeated the car ever since they’d left the Quarter. Beau looked over at her. “Hey, Rosebud, you’re awfully quiet. ’Course, you’re always quiet, but”—he studied her with bogus concern—“you’re also lookin’ a mite flushed.” His thick lashes lowered as his gaze dropped down to study her thighs, and Juliet’s flush grew deeper when
“Why, Cousin Juliet, you little ol’ tease, you.” Noticing a lock of hair that had almost worked itself loose from her tightly pulled back ’do, he leaned close to hook it with his finger, flashing her a big ole wolfish grin when her predictable recoil tugged it free. The liberated tress immediately swelled in volume and grew surprisingly wavy. “What a card y’are, pretendin’ you’ve forgotten how insistent you were to watch me in action.” He wrapped the hair around and around one finger and rubbed it absently with his thumb as he look over at Dora. “She’s such a kidder. I tried telling her I had work to do, but would she listen? No, ma’am. She kept beggin’ me and beggin’ me to bring her along, rhapsodizing on and on about what a golden opportunity it would be to observe the best at work.” He gave a modest shrug. “What could I do?”
“Actually,” Juliet said coolly, “I believe it was you who touted yourself as the best. And I don’t recall begging to go anywhere with you. Let go of my hair, Beauregard.”
He unwound the strands from his fingers while Dora commented wryly, “Y’all aren’t exactly kissin’ cousins, are ya?” The thought seemed to please her.
Beau’s gaze went unerringly to Juliet’s full, unpainted lips. Why, the situation practically demanded he capture a little taste, and he found himself leaning toward her. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t say that at all.” This was strictly in the name of the cause, of course.
“Well, I would.” Juliet slid out of reach off the far side of her barstool and stood facing them, her posture erect, the errant curl dangling down over her eye. “Dora, you’re an exceedingly perceptive woman. Now, excuse me a moment, won’t you? I’ll just go fix my hair.”
“She hates to get mussed,” Beau murmured, but his self-congratulatory smile faded when Juliet disappeared down a dim hallway and he realized he’d been watching her every step of the way. He turned to Dora, all business. “Here’s my card. I’m going to write down my cell and my home phone number on it, too. I want to hear from you the minute Clyde Lydet shows up. It’s important, Dora.”
Then he gave her a grin. “Why don’t you give me your home number, too, sugar, and I’ll give you a call as soon as this case is over. We’ll get together.”
He exchanged lazy, flirtatious comments with the waitress and watched the newest stripper until Juliet reappeared. The instant she materialized out of the gloom, he rose to his feet, ready to leave. And if there was an inexplicable sense of relief in seeing her hair all skimmed tightly back into place again, he didn’t address it.
Cousin Juliet, say hi to Dora. Say hi to Charleen, Cousin Juliet . Juliet gazed stonily at the scenery flashing by as Beau raced his precious GTO through the city streets. Hey, Tammi Mae. Meet my Cousin Jules . What she wouldn’t give to tell Lil’ Abner here what she thought of his aw-shucks routine.
At first it had been amusing, but it had rapidly palled. There had even been one reckless moment in the last bar he’d dragged her to when she’d nearly smacked her palm against a portion of her anatomy an Astor Lowell never even mentioned , and invited him to Kiss this, Cousin Beau .
But of course she hadn’t.
Her control should make her proud: she had remained true to her breeding, to Grandmother’s upbringing. So why did she feel so sour instead?
They rolled to a stop at a red light, the threatening grumble of the GTO’s pipes the only sound to break the silence that had permeated the car ever since they’d left the Quarter. Beau looked over at her. “Hey, Rosebud, you’re awfully quiet. ’Course, you’re always quiet, but”—he studied her with bogus concern—“you’re also lookin’ a mite flushed.” His thick lashes lowered as his gaze dropped down to study her thighs, and Juliet’s flush grew deeper when
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