Trust Me, page 11
“What?”
“That first time you came down from Grambling with Indina, you called me Evan for the first two days you were here.”
Mack rolled her eyes. “That was a joke, Ezra. Indina said she used to call you Evan when you guys were younger because it used to annoy you. It was my attempt at being funny. Ha, ha,” she deadpanned. “Guess the joke was on me.”
A pregnant paused filled the air before he said, “It didn’t come across as a joke. It made it seem as if I didn’t rate high enough for you to even remember my name.”
Mack’s heart pinched at the despondence she heard in his voice.
“That wasn’t the case at all,” she said. A small, regretful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I thought you were kinda cute back then. It frustrated me that you didn’t like me.”
“I liked you too damn much.” His eyes dropped to her lips. In a whisper, he said, “That’s always been the case when it comes to you.”
The air vacated her lungs, leaving her breathless as his brown eyes grew darker with every second that ticked by. Desire gathered deep within her belly, the heavy sensation eddying around her body, setting off tiny bursts of awareness along her nerve endings.
“Why do you look like you want to kiss me?” Mack asked in a hushed voice.
“Because I do,” Ezra answered, leaning toward her.
“That’s probably not smart.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“But it won’t stop you, will it?”
He slowly shook his head. “You’re the only one who can stop me.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. “If you say you don’t want me to kiss you, that’ll stop me.”
“What if I don’t say that?”
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes as he narrowed the distance between them, cupped her jaw in his palm and connected his mouth to hers. The first brush of his lips felt like heaven. Mack closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of his gentle touch as it moved across her mouth. Her breath caught in her lungs as his tongue probed tentatively at her lips. Slowly, she opened her mouth, taking him inside.
A moan escaped as she lost herself in the incredible passion sweeping through her. He tasted so damn good. Like chocolate and coffee and something with a hint of spice. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth, over and over and over again, and Mack soaked up every bit of his flavor.
Her breasts grew heavy and desire pooled between her legs. It had been much too long since she’d experienced the feverish excitement currently overloading her senses. Every erotic thrust of Ezra’s tongue propelled her to another level of pleasure. It throbbed through her bloodstream, coaxing another moan from her lips.
With one last swipe of his tongue inside her mouth, Ezra ended the kiss. But he didn’t let go of her face. He continued to hold her jaw in his hand as he rested his forehead against hers.
“Maybe we should have done that from the very beginning, just to get it out of our systems and be done with it.”
“Are you done?” Mack asked him.
“I don’t want to be,” he said. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “But it’s probably best if that doesn’t happen again.”
She ignored the sharp ache that struck her chest at his words. He was right. Getting involved with him on anything but a professional level would only muddy the waters. She had too much at stake to allow Ezra Holmes’s drugging kisses to distract her.
He pushed himself up from the floor. “I should probably head home.”
Mack nodded, but remained on the floor. She couldn’t stand if she tried. Her knees were still too weak from his mouth’s erotic assault on her senses.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll…uh…lock the door on my way out.”
“Hey,” she called out after him. She waited until he turned before she winked, and with a cheeky smile, said, “See you later, Evan.”
Chapter 7
Ezra stood at the crosswalk where Decatur collided with Frenchmen Street, waiting while a fire truck pulled out of the Engine no. 9 firehouse. He crossed to Esplanade Avenue, shouldering his way through the crowd of people who had descended on the French Quarter for Satchmo Summer Fest, the annual event celebrating New Orleans’s native son, Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong and his contribution to jazz music.
It wasn’t as if the city needed a reason to have a festival, but this was one Ezra heartily approved of. It began as a one-day commemoration, but over the years had grown into a full-blown three-day conflagration of music, food and booze, the hallmarks of a good time in the Crescent City.
Ezra turned the corner from Esplanade and onto Elysian Fields, and spotted Mack standing exactly where she said she would be. He had to stop to take a breath at the sight of her. The peach sundress she wore, as innocent as it may have seemed at first glance, draped seductively over her nicely-shaped hips and that perfect ass.
Her ass really was perfect. There was no other way to describe it. Her bare arms were toned and sexy as hell. And that desirable dip at her collarbones? That spot just screamed for his tongue to skim it.
Damn, but he needed to get ahold of these feelings that he absolutely, without a doubt, should not be feeling right now. He was setting himself up for more trouble than his brain could fathom. She was a member of the city council, and could quite possibly become this city’s next mayor. To harbor such feelings for a politician he would undoubtedly have to cover was unprofessional at best, and career suicide at worst.
It was just as stupid on a personal level. His ego was as healthy as the next guy’s, but Ezra knew when a woman was out of his league. And Mack had always been out of his league.
That wasn’t a knock against the smart, beautiful, cultured women he’d dated in the past. Some would argue—his brothers for instance—that quite a few of those women had been out of his league too.
His brothers would have been correct. Yet none of those women could hold a candle to Mack. She was on an entirely different level. He needed to remember that, especially when she turned on that smile that made him feel as if he was someone she’d be interested in for something other than his investigative skills.
Ezra walked up to her and said, “Hey there.”
She turned and greeted him with that smile. For a second, every other thought vanished from his head. Her radiance commanded his undivided attention.
“You’re here,” she said, as if she’d expected him to stand her up.
“Of course I’m here. Although I’m still trying to figure out exactly why you asked me to meet you at Satchmo Fest.”
“I have to admit my reasons are completely selfish,” she said. Ezra’s brow cocked in inquiry. “I needed a break,” she explained. “I got into it with Carter on the phone this morning, and then had a back and forth with Cecil Washington over email. I needed to get away from everything, if only for a few hours.” She hunched her shoulders. “We’ve both been working nonstop. I figured you could probably use a break too. And, to be honest, I just need to be around someone I can trust right now.”
Ezra couldn’t help but laugh.
Her brow dipped with affront. “What’s so funny about that?”
“Think back to a month ago. Could you have ever imagined that I would be that person for you?”
Her mouth curved in a slight grin. It had the same effect on him as her full-wattage smile.
“Okay, when you put it that way I guess it is somewhat amusing.”
“Somewhat, huh?”
“I never would have predicted this, but, then again, life is unpredictable,” Mack said. “When I consider some of the more unpredictable moments in my past, finding myself in a partnership with you falls in under the ‘hashtag winning’ category.” She leaned forward, and in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “In case you’re still keeping count, that’s another compliment.”
“You’re going to spoil me,” Ezra said.
With a laugh, she captured him by the wrist and tugged. “Come on. I want to listen to wonderful jazz music, eat amazing food, enjoy this beautiful weather and not worry that the person smiling in my face isn’t really plotting something against me behind my back. Even if you are plotting something behind my back, let me just pretend for the day that you’re being one hundred percent honest with me.”
Ezra gave her hand a tug, halting her steps. He closed the distance between them and stared down into her warm brown eyes.
“Forget about your ex, the city council, the mayor, your students and anyone else driving you crazy at the moment. The only thing you have to worry about today is having a good time,” he said. He tipped his head toward the crowd. “Allow me to show you how to do just that.”
Her expression was a combination of gratitude, amusement and something else, something Ezra hesitated to qualify for fear that he was reading too much into it. As tempting as it would be to fall head-over-heels for Mackenna, Ezra reminded himself he had too much at stake to allow himself to be deterred. Breaking the political story of the year—possibly of the decade—and catapulting himself into the national spotlight as an investigative journalist was his ultimate goal. He could never lose sight of that.
They rounded the block and entered the old U.S. Mint. The historic building had been turned into a museum and stood as the centerpiece of the Satchmo Summer Fest. It had been years since Ezra had been here, not since one of his fraternity brothers had asked him if he could play tour guide for his parents, who’d come to town for their anniversary. Ezra had planned a day of museum stops and historical tours, only to discover that his friends’ folks wanted to party on Bourbon Street with the rest of the tourists.
As they toured the collection of instruments played by some of the city’s most notable musicians, Ezra had a hard time focusing on the artifacts. Much of his concentration rested on the woman standing next to him. He studied her as she stared at the last trumpet Louis Armstrong played before his death.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Mack said, running her finger longingly against the Plexiglas case. “One would think a music buff would actually take the time to visit such an important museum, especially with it being so close by.”
“I didn’t know you were a music buff.”
“Not as much as I once was, but music has always been a big part of my life. I was a member of my high school marching band for four years.” She tipped her nose up in the air. “I have the distinction of being the first freshman to make first chair.”
Ezra’s eyes widened with surprise. “You were a band geek? Get the hell out of here.”
She laughed. “Band geeks run shit. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
“I never would have pegged you for the marching band.”
She shrugged that impossibly sexy bare shoulder. “It was one of the few extracurricular activities my very small high school offered.”
“Which instrument?”
“Well, I wanted to play the trumpet,” she said, bringing her eyes back to Armstrong’s instrument. She released a sigh and looked back at Ezra. “But I had to settle for the clarinet.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why’s that?”
“Misogyny and growing up poor,” she answered in the same longing voice. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Our band teacher was adamant that girls could only play the flute or clarinet. I was lucky that I got to play at all. The only reason I did was because my grandmother found a used clarinet at a thrift store over in Ruston. There’s no way she would have been able to afford a brand new instrument.”
As he took in the doleful look in her usually expressive eyes, it suddenly occurred to Ezra just how much he didn’t know about her. He’d never given much thought to her upbringing. The first time she came home with Indina, he’d been too enamored with her face to notice whether or not she’d worn designer clothes or anything like that. She hadn’t needed any of that to stand out in a crowd. Apparently, she wouldn’t have been able to afford designer clothes even if she had wanted any.
“I came to love the clarinet,” Mack continued. “But I still envied those guys on trumpet.”
“Did you play in college?”
“Oh, no,” she said with a laugh. “Have you heard The World Famous Grambling State Marching Band? The university recruits as heavily for the band as they do for the football team.” She shook her head. “Thankfully I was able to get in on grades alone. I didn’t have to rely on a band scholarship to pay for school.” She cast one last longing look at Satchmo’s horn before turning to Ezra. “Are you ready for something to eat? I didn’t have breakfast this morning, and I am starving.”
Ezra didn’t want food nearly as much as he wanted to learn more about her.
He wanted to ask her about her childhood, because based on the little she’d just shared, it was vastly different from what he’d envisioned. Even though he’d had nothing to base it on, he’d assumed she’d come from money. The way she’d carried herself, the way she fit so perfectly in with New Orleans’s society scene—first as one half of one of the city’s most high-powered couples, then in her own right as a member of the city council. It just seemed as if she’d been born into the role she’d played so far. To find out that she considered herself lucky to have played a secondhand clarinet in a small town marching band completely blew away so many of those notions he’d held about her.
Then again, it shouldn’t surprise him in the least that Mack was intriguing as hell. She’d always intrigued him.
They exited the Old U.S. Mint and walked down to Jackson Square, where some of the city’s premier restaurants had set up food booths.
“We are hitting the main stage, right?” Ezra asked, gesturing with his head in the direction of Barracks Street. He could hear a brass band playing second-line music. There was a time when he could decipher which one was playing, just by listening to the style. The fact that he couldn’t anymore was telling. It had been a long time since he’d given himself permission to just enjoy himself. Not since he’d been let go from the paper. He’d felt as if he didn’t deserve the right to enjoy himself.
“We are definitely hitting the main stage,” Mack answered. “But I just got a whiff of fried chicken and my body will rebel if I don’t get some of that in my belly in the next five minutes.”
Instead of fried chicken, she chose the Blackened Shrimp over Gouda Grits, while Ezra tried pho from a Vietnamese booth. They both opted for Abita Beer, a local favorite.
Mack gestured to an available patch of green grass, just in the shadow of Andrew Jackson’s statue in the center of the square. Ezra looked on in awe as she gracefully lowered herself to the ground, stretching her long, shapely legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles. Suddenly, his food didn’t hold the same appeal it had just a few minutes ago. He’d much rather feast on her.
Stop that shit, Ezra chastised his overeager imagination.
Just because Mack had invited him to spend the day with her, it didn’t mean she was inviting him into other parts of her life. He had to chill the hell out and just enjoy this time with her.
“So, did you play an instrument in high school?” she asked.
Ezra shook his head. “I was one of those assholes who made fun of the band geeks. I would have totally made fun of you.”
She kicked at his leg with her sandaled foot. “All us band members ever wanted was to be appreciated,” she said.
“I appreciated how you all gave us something to make fun of.”
“You’re awful. I can’t believe I thought you were a nice guy.”
Ezra caught her ankle. “I am a nice guy now, I promise. I stopped being an asshole back in high school.”
The alluring glint in her eyes caused Ezra’s breath to quicken.
“I guess I can believe that,” Mack said. “My opinion of you has changed from what it was just a few months ago. Now that I know you actually had a reason for being such a pain in my ass.” She tugged her leg out of his grasp and crossed her ankles again. “So, what else?” she asked.
“What else what?”
“What else did you do in high school? Besides stuff band members in the trash can,” she said.
Ezra’s head flew back with his laugh. “I promise I never stuffed a single band member in the trash.”
“Well, that’s certainly good to know,” she said. “I still want to know which Holmes brother you were.”
“We have labels?”
She nodded. “According to Indina, Harrison was the super smart one who got all the A’s. Reid was the spoiled baby of the family who could get your parents to agree to just about anything. But she never really talked about you that much.”
“Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” he asked. “It’s like I’m the forgotten Holmes.”
She laughed. “I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“I think you did. You’re trying to get back at me for being mean to band geeks.” He set aside his bowl and leaned back, bracing his hands on the grass. “I played football,” Ezra said.
“Oh, right. How could I forget? You used to call Indina on Saturday mornings after your football games.”
“Only because she wanted me to,” he said. A wry grin curled up the edge of Mack’s lips. Ezra’s eyes narrowed as a matching smile crept along his lips. “Are you saying she didn’t want a detailed explanation of every single tackle I made in every single game?”
She laughed. “She indulged you because you were her little brother. I thought it was adorable.”
Ezra wasn’t sure how he felt about Mack thinking of him in those terms. Adorable Little Brother usually didn’t make it into the Potential Bed Partner category. Not that being her potential bed partner was anywhere on his radar.
He glanced up at the sky to make sure those thunderclouds he’d noticed earlier hadn’t made their way here yet. Lightening was sure to strike him down after that lie.
“I remember now how much of a stir it caused when you decided not to enter into the NFL draft.”
Ezra shrugged. “My draft chances weren’t as great as the people in my family seemed to believe. Besides, it’s not every football player’s dream to play professionally. I had more interests.”
