Ooh, La La!, page 8
Aw, hell. He didn’t want some weak substitute action. He wanted Kate to change her mind so he could use what he already had. “You’re not likely to find anything as exciting as an exploding riverboat or a buggy race down Saint Charles Avenue.”
“Maybe I’ll find something even better.”
Oh, right. Fat chance of that. But he couldn’t flat-out refuse her offer without insulting her.
What the hell—let her look. In the meantime, he’d work on softening her up and convincing her to let him use the existing script.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt for you to take a shot at it.” He turned onto the long drive that led to the Hyatt Regency’s entrance, then braked behind a car unloading luggage.
“It’ll take me a couple of days to look through all the resources,” she said. “But I’m sure I’ll turn up something.”
“That would be great.” He placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze.
Her hand tensed under his. She cleared her throat nervously. “Sure. And thank you for the ride.”
She started to pull her hand away, but he caught it and cradled it between his palms. “It’s Friday night. Let me take you to dinner.”
She blinked in surprise. “I—I can’t. My family’s expecting me.”
“Tomorrow night, then.”
She hesitated.
Zack poured all of his considerable charm into a pleading smile. “Please. We got off to a bad start, and I want to make it up to you.”
Her eyes were uncertain. “Well…”
“If you turn me down, I’ll think you’re still mad at me.”
Her lips tilted in a small smile. “You make it hard to say no.”
“That’s the whole idea. Come on. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
The doorman opened Kate’s door. “All right,” she conceded.
“Great! So it’s a date.”
She froze for a brief moment, then pulled her hand free and scrambled out of the vehicle, tightly clutching the slit in her skirt.
Chapter Five
It’s a date. It was absurd, the way those three simple words had twirled in her mind for the past twenty-four hours, swirling through her thoughts like leaves in a whirlwind.
They’d kept her awake late into the night; then they’d teased and taunted her all day. And now, as she stood staring at the contents of her closet, trying to decide what to wear to dinner, she could practically hear Zack say those words again.
It’s a date.
She was behaving like a silly schoolgirl, she chided herself. He’d only meant it in a platonic way. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that Zack Jackson thought she and he would… That they’d…
Kate impatiently pushed aside another clothes hanger, trying to push aside her disturbingly sensual thoughts, as well. She was making way too much of this. The fact that it was Saturday night—traditional date night—was nothing but a coincidence.
This wasn’t a real date—not the kind with romantic possibilities, anyway. Zack dated movie stars and models, not plain-Jane history professors.
Still, something had flashed between them—something electric and exciting and distinctly sexual, something that made her blood run hot and fast through her veins. The thought of it sent a shiver up her spine, a shiver that had nothing to do with the fact that she was still damp from her shower and wearing only a large pink towel.
She shoved aside another hanger, then paused at a black jersey dress, one she’d bought on sale but never worn. Lifting it from the rack, she held it in front of her and gazed into the mirror mounted on the back of her closet door. It wasn’t her usual style at all. It was tighter, shorter, and lower cut than anything she
’d ever owned, and she never would have bought it if her friend Samantha hadn’t insisted that she looked gorgeous in it.
“You need a fabulous dress for when you meet a fabulous man,” Sam had said.
The dress was better suited to Samantha’s life as a flight attendant than Kate’s, but she’d bought the dress because she wanted to buy into the fantasy. The truth was, there were no fabulous men in Kate’s life, nor were there likely to be. The men who routinely crossed her path at the university and Skye’s school functions were either too old, too young, too married, or too weird. If she did run into an eligible man, he was usually looking for someone along the lines of Samantha rather than a fade-into-the-woodwork historian.
Still… she did look pretty good in the dress. Should she wear it tonight?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, jamming it back on the rack. She and Zack had a business relationship, and an adversarial one at that. The man had tried to bribe her, for heaven’s sake! She needed to spend the evening convincing him that New Orleans’s history didn’t need any fictional embellishment, not nurturing an old school-girl fantasy. Snatching her navy pantsuit off the rack, she laid it across her bed and padded back to the bathroom to dry her hair.
She’d just picked up the blow dryer when the doorbell chimed. Oh dear—Zack was early! She wasn’t dressed, her hair was dripping wet, and she didn’t have any makeup on. The thought of leaving him at the mercy of her mother and Skye made her throw herself together in record time.
Stepping into a pair of navy sandals and grabbing her purse, she hurried downstairs and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. She stopped in the hallway and surveyed the scene. Zack was seated at the breakfast table, scribbling something on notepaper, while Skye leaned over his shoulder and Ruth talked a blue streak.
“…And by the time the police found the body, there was nothing left but teeth and a hank of hair,” her mother was saying.
Oh, no. Kate stepped into the kitchen. “Mom, I’m sure Zack isn’t interested in hearing your gruesome stories.”
The camera around Ruth’s neck swung as she turned toward the doorway. “But that crime happened in California, where Mr. Jackson lives.”
“Still, Mom, I don’t think…” Kate lost her train of thought as Zack rose to his feet, smiling. There it was again—that hot, breathless surge of attraction that made her stomach tighten and her tongue feel glued to the roof of her mouth.
“Hi, Kate.”
Why did being in the same room with him make her brain turn to mush? “Hello,” she managed.
His gaze traveled over her, warming her skin. “You look great.”
Skye glanced up, then turned her attention back to the pile of papers in front of her, apparently unimpressed. “She looks the same as always.” She slid another stack of notepaper in front of Zack. “Here, sign a few more.”
Kate peered over Skye’s shoulder. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Getting his autograph.”
Kate leaned forward and riffled through the pages stacked on the round oak table. “Looks like you already have a couple dozen.”
Skye lifted her shoulders. “So? I want a few more.”
“I don’t mind,” Zack said, bending over the table and picking up the pen.
Kate eyed her daughter suspiciously. “Why do you need so many?”
“I’m gonna sell them.”
Zack grinned up at Kate. “She’s turned me into a regular cottage industry.”
Kate regarded her daughter with dismay. “Skye!”
“What?” the girl asked, imbuing the word with an inflection that simultaneously said I’m not doing anything wrong and you’re a clueless moron. “The more autographs I get, the more money I can make. Mother’s Day is coming up, and his autograph would make a good gift. Since you had a crush on him, I figure other kids’ moms did, too.”
Kate fought the urge to crawl under the blue-and-white hooked rug under the kitchen table.
“I hate to break the news, but I wasn’t exactly a teen idol,” Zack told Skye. “I was more like Opie than David Cassidy.”
Skye looked at him quizzically. “Who were they?”
Zack laughed. Kate placed her hand on her hip and eyed her daughter sternly. “Skye, I won’t allow you to take advantage of Mr. Jackson.”
“It’s okay. Really.” Zack scrawled another line across the paper and smiled up at Kate. “I love to be taken advantage of.”
She felt her face heat. Her mother laughed, then peered worriedly out the kitchen window. “It’s getting dark. Most crime happens after sunset, you know.” She turned to Zack. “Why don’t you stay and have dinner here?”
Oh, great. Kate heaved an impatient sigh. “We’ll be fine, Mom. Nothing is going to happen.”
“That’s what everyone thinks. Do you think the person who got shot downtown last week thought that was going to happen?” Ruth turned to Zack and fixed him with a pleading smile. “Let me make you a nice dinner. I’ve got a lovely piece of liver, and—”
“Ugh!” Skye stuck her finger in her mouth and made a retching sound. “You guys better bring me a doggie bag.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Matthews.” Zack smiled at the older woman so warmly that for a moment, Kate feared he was about to accept. “But we have reservations at Arnaud’s. Don’t you worry, though. I promise I’ll take very good care of your daughter.”
He turned and gave Kate a smile so sexy she wondered what kind of care he had in mind. Fortunately, Ruth’s attention was drawn to something outside the window. Lifting her camera to her eye, she clicked off a shot.
Zack’s eyebrows rose. “Another criminal?”
Ruth lowered the camera but continued to squint out the window. “You never know. I got the license plate just in case.” Zack nodded somberly, as if the explanation made perfect sense.
Skye rolled her eyes. “Grams, criminals are not cruising up and down our street! There hasn’t been a crime in our neighborhood in ages.”
“All the more reason to keep an eye out.” Ruth kept her gaze fixed out the window. “You can’t beat the odds forever.”
Skye made a little circle next to her head and pointed at her grandmother’s back, then slid another paper in front of Zack for him to sign. Propping her elbows on the table, the girl rested her head in her hands. “Do you just know movie people, or do you know rock stars, too?”
He scrawled his name across the paper in fast, bold strokes. “I know a few people in the music industry.”
Skye’s face grew eager as a puppy’s. “Do you know Britney Spears? I just loooove Britney Spears!”
“Sorry. Never met her.”
“Oh.” The syllable was imbued with complete disillusionment. A second later, her face brightened again. “Well, what about ’N Sync? Or the Back Street Boys? Have you met any of them?”
“Afraid not.”
Skye slumped in her chair. “I guess you just know musicians who’re old like you, huh?”
“Skye!”
“I didn’t mean he was old-old. I just meant middle-aged. Like you.”
Zack burst out in a loud laugh. Kate shot her daughter a threatening look, but Skye’s gaze was fixed again on Zack. “Hey—what about Cristina Aguillera? Do you know her?”
“Young lady, that’s quite enough,” Kate ordered. “Leave Mr. Jackson alone.”
“He doesn’t mind. And he likes to be called Zack, I asked him.”
Kate needed to get out of here before her urge to throttle her daughter overrode her protective motherly instincts. She pulled her purse up on her arm and looked pleadingly at Zack. “We’ll lose our reservation if we’re late.”
“Right. We’d better go.” Zack signed one last signature and rose from his chair.
“Wait!” Ruth scurried across the kitchen, yanked open a deep drawer, and pulled out a huge red flashlight. She thrust it at Zack. “Here. Take this.”
He gripped the flashlight, clearly puzzled.
“Crooks hate light,” Ruth explained. “If you suspect that someone is following you, just whip around, shine it straight in his eyes, and shout, ‘Back off or else!’ It works like a charm.”
“I’ll bet it does,” The corners of Zack’s mouth were quivering, but to his credit, he managed not to actually laugh.
“Grams did that at my school’s open house.” Skye gave a disgusted sigh. “The man turned out to be my principal.”
Ruth lifted her chin and sniffed. “Well, he had no business following us out to the parking lot.”
“He wasn’t following us, Grams. The meeting was over and he was going to his car.”
Kate needed to get Zack out of here before he decided to have them all committed. Taking the flashlight from him, Kate placed her other hand on his arm and tugged him toward the door. “We don’t want to be late.”
To her alarm, he placed his hand possessively over hers, trapping her palm against the warm steel of his jacket-clad arm. Zack gave a gallant smile to Ruth. “It was nice to see you again. Thanks for the iced tea. And thanks for the loan of the flashlight.” He grinned at Skye. “Good luck with your autograph sales.”
Kate tugged him toward the door.
“How about Jennifer Lopez?” Skye called as Kate ushered him to the porch. “I bet I could get a ton of money for her autograph. Do you know her?”
“Sorry,” Zack called over his shoulder.
“Awww!”
The door closed firmly behind them, mercifully cutting off Skye’s baleful whine. Kate drew a deep breath. The evening was warm, and the twilight sky was the deep purple-blue that came just before true dark. It was the time of day that Kate had always thought was the most perfect, romantic time on earth.
But she had no business thinking of romance right now— especially since her hand was still trapped against Zack’s left biceps and the feel of it made her insides all fluttery. He was close enough that she could inhale his scent, a heady blend of shaving cream and soap and something fainter. Probably testosterone, she thought. That would account for the acute sexual awareness she felt whenever she was near him.
She cleared her throat. “I apologize for Mom and Skye.”
“Why? They’re terrific.” He stopped by the passenger door of the SUV. “They’re real originals.”
“Is that code for certifiable?”
Zack laughed and released her hand to open her door. The heat from his touch stayed with her while he circled the car, climbed in, and started the engine.
“I hope you’ll excuse Skye,” Kate said. “She can be awfully pushy.”
“She’s persistent. That’s a good trait to have.” He shot her a grin. “I thought I could eke out a few more years, though, before I qualified as middle-aged.”
“Skye thinks everyone over twenty-five is ancient. It drives Mom crazy.” Kate gave a dry smile. “Not that Mom is exactly sane to begin with.”
Zack looked over curiously as he backed out of the drive. “What’s the story with her, anyway? She seems awfully concerned about crime.”
Kate gave a rueful grin. “Oh, you picked up on that, did you?”
Zack laughed. “It would have been hard to miss. I thought she wasn’t going to let me out of there unless I strapped on an Uzi and a few rounds of ammunition.”
Kate laughed. “You got off easy, all right.”
“So what’s the story?”
Kate shook her head. “I’m afraid a long one.”
“Hey, I’ve got all night.”
Kate could think of a lot better ways to spend it than discussing her mother’s eccentricities, but since Zack had been treated to a full range of them, she owed him some kind of explanation. “It all started after my father died.”
“When was that?”
“I was ten, so let’s see… twenty-one years ago.”
“What happened to him?”
“He had a heart attack while he was driving back from the Northshore. His car went off the bridge and he drowned in Lake Pontchartrain.”
“Wow. That must have been rough.”
Kate nodded. “It was. I was devastated, but Mom was nearly destroyed. She became terrified that something was going to happen to me, too, and she didn’t want me out of her sight.”
“Oh, I’ll bet you really loved that.”
Kate gave a rueful grin. “It was really fun when I hit my teens.”
“Is that why you eloped?”
A twinge of discomfort shot through Kate, the way it always did when the subject came up. “That had a lot to do with it,” she admitted.
“I’ll bet your mom wigged out when she found you gone.”
Kate nodded. “That’s when she started focusing on crime.”
Zack frowned. “I don’t get the connection.”
“I didn’t, either, until a friend of mine who’s a psychology professor explained it to me.” Kate angled more fully toward him. “Mom thinks crime is something she can control. She realizes she can’t control accidents, and she can’t control me, but she thinks that if she’s vigilant enough, she can control whether or not we’re victims of crime.”
“Wow. That’s fascinating.” The Navigator bumped over the streetcar tracks as Zack steered around Jackson Circle. “That’s got the makings of a movie.”
“What would it be—comedy or horror?”
“Probably a little of both.” He grinned and looked over as he braked for a stoplight. “Have you tried to get her professional help?”
Kate nodded. “She’s in complete denial. She says she doesn’t need it, and she gets upset if you mention the topic. My psychologist friend says it’s useless to try to change her if she doesn’t want to change.” Kate looked out the window. “As neuroses go, Mom’s is pretty harmless. And Skye and I are used to it.” Kate lifted her shoulders. “So I let her give me flashlights, then just leave them in the car.”
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re going to leave it in the car.” Zack frowned in mock chagrin. “I was hoping I’d get to see your 'back off or else’ technique.”
Kate smiled. “Maybe I’ll give you a private demonstration later.”
“Oh, I hope not.” Zack’s mouth curved. “I was hoping for a private demonstration of a whole other kind.”
His eyes locked on hers, and it was as if Kate had stepped on a downed powerline. Electricity, hot and powerful, zapped between them. The temperature in the vehicle suddenly shot up by several degrees. Kate knew she should look away, but she was completely unable to pull her gaze away from Zack’s.
