She caught her breath. Goose bumps trailed up her arm where we touched.
“So, this business meeting—and I mean just that, a business meeting—when are you free?”
“Tonight. I mean, later tonight. Too soon?”
“No, I need it ASAP.”
“You do?” I grinned.
“Damn it, Victor. I need my questions answered, not the other …” She folded her arms across her bouncy chest.
I saw her internal struggle. She needed the other.
“Okay, how about this? Meet me at the Carousel Bar in Hotel Monteleone at eight thirty. I’ll be done with the client dinner then, and we can discuss your business over a drink or two. Sound good?”
“You told me a public place. You want to meet me at a hotel?”
“It’s not like that,” I lied. “My clients are staying there. It’s in your area and also easiest for me. Besides, have you been to the Carousel Bar? Total inspiration for this circus we are throwing.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Okay. But it’s just business.”
“It’s just business,” I repeated. If I kept telling myself that it was only business, maybe I would believe it too.
My eyes followed her as she walked out the door. She hadn’t even made a purchase. I must have made her too flustered to think or too annoyed to care. I filled my basket with enough candy for a small family and made my way to the counter. I quickly paid for my items and rushed out the door in hopes of catching one last glimpse of her walking away.
“Another client?” Ms. Cindy raised her eyebrows.
“Not exactly. She does work for me though. She’s my event planner.” I unwrapped a praline and shoved the whole thing in my mouth before hopping on the scooter.
“She is! Well, your events are always amazing. I guess that means she’s special.” Her eyes twinkled.
How do little old ladies always know this stuff? Is this all-knowing wisdom just a thing that comes with age?
My mouth was too full to answer her. I didn’t have a clue how to answer her anyway. Of course, Samantha was special. She was special enough that when I had seen her with Dude, I’d become instantly jealous and sad, consequently stuffing my face with all Nola had to offer—including this praline stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Mmhmm,” I mumbled as we took off again. This time, I stood straight and went slow.
I could dodge the drunks and the poles, and I, Victor Beaumont, could also dodge the feels.
The bar was packed for a Monday evening, but if I thought about it, Mondays were the best day to go to the bar—because who the heck didn’t want to drink on a Monday?
I whispered my order of whiskey on the rocks to the bartender. I rarely drank my rum. Truth be told, I loved whiskey as much as I loved rum. Blasphemy, my parents would say, but it was true. Chalk it up to another one of my quirks that my family tried to hide.
“How the heck did you manage to secure two seats here? I’ve never been able to snag an actual seat at the Carousel Bar!” Samantha squeezed in beside me.
She had changed her clothes. Her blanket scarf had come off, and now, she wore a tight sweater—a tight and low-cut sweater. Her cleavage bounced with her excitement.
“I called in ahead and reserved them,” I told her chest.
“We can do that?” She reached out and tilted my face up to meet her gaze.
“I can do that.”
“Of course you can.” She rolled her eyes and picked up a menu. “So, about this circus. You’re right. It is good inspiration here.” She ran her hand along the bar and nodded toward the lights overhead. “But I’ve always wondered whose bright idea it was to make a bar that spins. I mean, sure, it sounds cool. But a spinning bar is the last place I’d want to be when I’m getting shit-faced.”
“I don’t think anyone’s here to get shit-faced though.” I shrugged.
The bartender, overhearing our conversation, cocked his head to the side. “Sir, it’s New Orleans. We’re all getting shit-faced.” He took her order.
“Fair enough.” I couldn’t argue with that. I was the owner of the largest rum distillery here.
“Let’s not get shit-faced and instead get down to business.” Samantha turned in her seat toward me. Her knee knocked against mine, sending a vibe straight up my leg and out my dick.
Here we go again.
“All right, business,” I breathed out.
Our meeting hadn’t even started yet, and I was already wondering if I could walk to the lobby and reserve a room.
“You’re going to play the role of the ringmaster, not the magician. Well, you’re still magic, but a magic ringmaster and not just the magician. A circus has to have a ringmaster, and since you are the man—insert eye roll—it has to be you. Agreed?” She took a sip of her fruity cocktail.
“Agreed.”
“Okay.” She tapped the straw on the rim of her glass. “Also, we should really go with a big top, but it will be cold out, so a tent is out of the question. So, I am thinking—”
“Who was that guy anyway?” I asked. My foot fidgeted against the barstool. I’d held out on that question long enough. My inquiring mind had to know.
“Huh?”
“The one from this morning. The Dude who asked if I was all right when I did that sweet scooter trick that looked like I fell, but in actuality, that was supposed to happen. Magic skills.”
“Oh. You mean, when you busted your ass in front of Mike and me?”
“Sure. Whatever. Mike.” My jaw tightened. Mike.
The corners of her mouth turned up. She loved this.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I … I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I was just curious, is all.”
“You mean, jealous. I think that’s what you mean. I’m sure that’s a new feeling for you, Mr. Have It All.”
“No, not at all. I know what we have is just business.” I shook my head. I turned my attention to the bartender, and I ordered us another round.
“If what we have is just business, then why would it matter? He could be my brother, a client, a vendor, my boyfriend.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Back to business. But … is Mike your boyfriend?” I slammed back the rest of my whiskey as the bartender brought over a new glass.
“No. Just a date. I … recently put myself back on the market. Not that any of this is your business or this whatever business we have together.”
“Oh. Right. Cool. So, how did it go?” I took another sip of my whiskey.
She was right. This spinning bar was a bad idea.
“It went great. He’s charming.” She rested her head on her palm and sighed. It wasn’t a lousy sigh, not a cry of boredom. No, she sighed out of longing.
I’d heard that sigh before, and it usually came from women who looked at me like that.
“So, you’re putting yourself back on the market? Why did you take yourself off of it?”
She sucked in her breath and took a long sip of her drink. “Back to business.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s okay. I was married once. Long ago. It was a very short marriage but a terrible one. I don’t like to talk about it much. After the divorce, I used my free time as an opportunity to focus on me and my career instead of dating—until now.”