Going Down Easy (Boys of the Big Easy) Page 3

But—and this was a very important but—she didn’t want anything more than sex from him. Well, okay, sex and beignets. And jazz. But just those things. Just those fun, harmless, no-big-deal things.

  “I just . . .” Elena looked at the flowers again. “I had no idea.”

  Addison frowned. “Is it a problem?”

  “Well, no. Not exactly. Probably,” Elena said, still frowning at the flowers as if trying to figure something out.

  “What do you mean ‘not exactly’ and ‘probably’?” Addison asked, trepidation suddenly creeping up her spine. Dammit. She hadn’t mentioned this to Elena because, honestly, it didn’t matter.

  Gabe was . . . okay, Gabe was amazing. He was the best time she’d ever had, and she knew that she was in danger of falling for him. Which was incredibly stupid. She didn’t even really know him. She knew things about him just from being around him. He was funny and intelligent, he loved his bar and its patrons, he loved his city and was so patient about letting her go all touristy on him when they went out. He was kind to the homeless people who approached him for money, instead giving them his business card and telling them to go to his tavern and show the card for a meal. He joked with business owners throughout the French Quarter when he ran into them, and it was obvious he was well liked and respected. And damn, the things that guy could do with his mouth and hands and . . . other parts.

  “Gabe and Logan Trahan are coming in for a meeting today,” Elena said. “You knew that first night we went in for drinks that we were trying to convince them to hire us.”

  Addison nodded and crossed her arms over her middle. Okay, Gabe and Logan were coming into Monroe & LeBlanc. No big deal. Addison would just hide out while they were here. And every other time they were scheduled for a meeting..

  “Well, they finally came around,” Elena said. “They called for a meeting about two weeks ago.”

  “That’s . . . great.” It was. Trahan’s Tavern was a gorgeous old French Quarter building that definitely needed the best restoration architects in the city. Monroe & LeBlanc were those architects.

  Which Addison just might have mentioned to Gabe a time or two. Or five.

  Before she’d known she’d be working here, of course.

  “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?” Elena asked point-blank.

  “I did mention to Gabe that you are the best,” Addison said. “And I absolutely love his building. It would be an amazing project.”

  Elena sighed. “Well, shit.”

  Addison chewed her bottom lip.

  “So he might have hired us because he’s sleeping with you?” Elena asked.

  “What?” Addison shook her head quickly. “No, he doesn’t even know I’m working here. I never told him. I mean, he knew I was consulting, but he doesn’t know I’ve taken the job and moved here. Like I said, it was a fling. I kept it going longer than I’d intended and longer than I should have, but it’s nothing serious, and it’s over now.” Again, her heart clenched in her chest. Dammit.

  “You don’t have any interest in the project, then?” Elena asked. “You didn’t encourage him to hire us thinking you could work on the tavern?”

  Addison stared at her. The building was amazing. It was exactly the kind of project that Addison would love to tackle. It was the quintessential French Quarter building in the Creole style, built in the early 1800s. Those buildings were one of the things she loved best about New Orleans, and the chance to work on them was one of the reasons she’d taken the job offer from Monroe & LeBlanc. But she would never sleep with someone to get a project.

  “I don’t know how to respond to that,” she told Elena. “I would never do that.”

  Elena let out a breath. “Okay, good. I mean, I know. At least, I hope so. I just . . . had to ask.”

  “No, you didn’t have to ask,” Addison said. “But I really think it would be best if I wasn’t here when Gabe and Logan come in. I’ll take my lunch break during that meeting.”

  Elena looked pained. “I’m sorry, Addison. I didn’t mean to insult you. This is just . . . unexpected.”

  “It’s nothing,” Addison said firmly. “Gabe Trahan and I are over.”

  And eventually her heart would probably stop clenching every time she thought or said those words.

  Elena looked at the bouquet of magnolias. “Are you sure he knows that?”

  Addison sighed. She had really hoped to get away with just never setting foot in Trahan’s again, and that would be that. But okay, she was maybe going to have to be a grown-up about this. Especially if her firm was doing the restoration of his bar.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she told Elena.

  “You sure you can break it off?”

  Addison shrugged. “He will.”

  “You sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I have something that always sends men running in the opposite direction. A five-year-old daughter.”

  Chapter Two

  Gabe wiped his hands on his jeans. He was nervous? Seriously? He’d seen every inch of the woman he was about to meet up with. He knew that she came fastest when he fucked her on all fours. He knew that she had a tattoo that turned him on instantly—it was a quote that ran under the curve of her left breast and read, “But it is lightning that does the work.” He also knew that it came from one of her favorite quotes from Mark Twain—“Thunder is good. Thunder is impressive. But it is lightning that does the work.” He knew that she never added sugar to anything, but that if you gave her honey, she’d drench whatever she had in it. And he also knew that her tongue, combined with honey, was the best thing he’d ever had on his cock. And he knew that she’d gotten the delivery of magnolias and that she was definitely feeling touched by them. He loved Addison’s fascination with all things southern and, specifically, New Orleans.

  So he was in a good place. He’d given her two orgasms, French-press coffee, a lemon scone, and a bouquet of magnolias today. If she wasn’t happy to see him after all of that, then . . . he was screwed.

  And now, sitting on the most uncomfortable chair he’d ever met, in the fancy waiting area of Monroe & LeBlanc, with the glass-topped coffee table covered in Architectural Digest and New Orleans magazines, he was nervous as hell.

  “We should have worn ties,” he muttered to Logan.

  Logan looked up from the copy of Architectural Digest he was paging through. “What? Are you kidding?”

  They were dressed, as they always were, in jeans and T-shirts. One of the things they both loved best about their jobs was the lack of a fancy dress code. Gabe owned ties. It was always good to have one in case of a wedding or a funeral. But he had never in his life worn a tie two days in a row. He couldn’t imagine working in an office where he had to dress up every day.

  Though he didn’t hate the dress code at Monroe & LeBlanc. After all, they were the reason that Addison put on those pencil skirts that hugged her ass and showed off her legs and the silky blouses that buttoned up the front and just hinted at her cleavage. The cleavage that was one of his favorite things on earth.

  He shifted on the looked-padded-but-wasn’t-really chair and wiped his hands on his thighs again. Fuck. He really just needed to see her, to see that she was happy to see him, and . . . hell, say goodbye to her again, he supposed.

  He didn’t want to do that.

  And that thought alone made him groan. Shit. How had this fling gotten so out of hand?

  “Relax,” Logan told him, turning another page. “They’re the ones trying to impress us. They want our money. We could show up here in potato sacks and they’d still try to impress us.”

  Logan was right. Gabe’s nerves were all about Addison. And he hated that. He was nervous about seeing the woman he’d, just that morning, put on her knees in front of him in the shower and said, “Suck my cock” to? That was ridiculous.

  “Gabe. Logan.”

  They looked up to see Elena LeBlanc coming toward them. They bot
h got to their feet. Elena shook their hands with a big smile.

  “We’re so happy you came in today,” she told him. “We’re very excited to talk about what we can do for Trahan’s. You know how much we love your place.”

  Elena had started coming to the bar because of its architecture and history. She’d kept coming because of the drinks and Gabe and Logan. That was how about 80 percent of their business worked. People happened upon the bar because of its location in the French Quarter, home of some of the best food and drink in the country, nestled along a quieter street away from the craziness of Bourbon or the tourist traffic on Decatur. There were other shops and restaurants in their area—antique shops and art galleries—that brought people over from the busier streets. Then the historic, charming look of the tavern with the weathered stone exterior, the gas lanterns hanging overhead, and the wide-open French doors, brought them inside. And from there they were hooked. The drinks, food, and general vibe kept people coming back. Either Gabe or Logan—sometimes both—manned the bar every night, and they’d built a reputation of authentic New Orleans hospitality, fun, and charm. They’d made several Best of New Orleans lists over the years, and several area tour guides recommended the tavern to their crowds of visitors.

  “We’re excited to see your ideas,” Logan told her. “You know that this project has been on our minds for a while.”

  “And your grandmother’s,” Elena said with a laugh.

  Both men nodded. “And our grandmother’s,” Logan agreed.

  “Well, come on back to the conference room,” she said. “I’ll be leading the meeting with a couple of our architects sitting in. We also have Mason Gary, one of our lead contractors, coming in. He’ll be the one on-site with you. And Travis will stop in too.” Travis Monroe was Elena’s partner. He’d actually started the company about ten years before Elena had joined him straight out of school. Travis was well known in the Quarter, having done the restoration on several historic buildings. His love of the city and its unique architecture was well established.

  Which meant that Gabe and Logan probably would have chosen Monroe & LeBlanc anyway. But yes, Addison’s encouragement had mattered to Gabe. As stupid as that was. He had no idea if Addison was a good architect. All he really knew was that between her legs was his favorite place to be.

  And he had to remember that. All he really knew about her was sexual and physical stuff. The other stuff, the softer, sweeter, I-really-like-her stuff was mostly in his head.

  Except the thing where no other woman had ever fit up against him as well as she did. And how, even though she didn’t like to cuddle, in her sleep, she always sandwiched one of his feet between hers. And how he only got grunts if he tried to talk to her before her first cup of coffee in the morning but that at night, after just one Pimm’s cup, she was exceedingly chatty.

  Those seemed like intimate things. Like more-than-a-fling things.

  But then he also had to remember that even when she was chatty, it was never about anything too personal. She kept all that locked down tight.

  And that was beginning to irritate him more and more.

  “Gabe?”

  He heard Elena saying his name and focused. They were now in the conference room—he didn’t even remember the walk through the hallways—a huge room with glass all around. Three of the walls were windows looking out over New Orleans, the fourth was a glass wall between the conference room and the hallway outside.

  “Sorry. Yeah?” he asked.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

  Bourbon. He really wanted a bourbon. “Coffee would be great.”

  “Black?”

  The only time he drank it any other way was with milk at Café du Monde with Addison . . . “Yes. Black. Definitely black. Very black.”

  Damn, he needed to get over the sweet brunette with the amazing mouth. The mouth that never told him anything personal, never asked him anything personal, never talked to him on the phone, never said anything like, “I’ll miss you.”

  The sweet brunette who had just walked past the conference room.

  Gabe lunged for the door as Addison passed the glass wall, her head bent over an open folder. Her long, dark hair was pulled back—because after he’d joined her in the shower, he’d been unable to help bending her over his bathroom vanity and taking her from behind while she watched in the mirror, and she hadn’t had time to style it.

  “Addison!”

  She was halfway down the hall, but he saw her freeze, her back going ramrod straight. She didn’t turn immediately, and Gabe frowned, stalking toward her.

  “Addison,” he repeated.

  She turned then, a big smile on her face. But this smile was new. He knew her oh-my-God-I’m-happy-to-see-you smile. She gave it to him one Saturday a month when she took her place at the end of his bar after not seeing him for thirty days.

  This was not that smile.

  “Gabe.” She didn’t, however, seem surprised to see him.

  He stopped in front of her, far too close for two people who were simple acquaintances running into each other in a public hallway. “Did you get the flowers?”

  Her gaze softened momentarily. “I did. They’re gorgeous.”

  “Good. I was hoping to run into you.”

  That did make her eyes flicker with surprise. “Really? You didn’t mention that you were coming in here today.”

  “I forgot that Logan and I had a meeting scheduled with Elena. We decided to go with Monroe and LeBlanc for the restoration.”

  She nodded. “Elena told me this morning. After wondering who the flowers were from. And after wondering if you’d hired them because we were sleeping together.”

  He blinked at her. “Oh.”

  Addison lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, oh.”

  “I . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think of that. I just wanted to send you something.”

  She tipped her head. “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

  “We’ve been doing . . . this . . . for a while now,” she said. “Why are you suddenly sending me stuff today?”

  “It just occurred to me.” He lifted a shoulder. He’d wanted her thinking of him. And knowing he was thinking of her. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that. And he wasn’t sure this was a good time to share that thought process with her. Then he said, “I was thinking of you and wanted you to know it,” anyway.

  She looked surprised, then pleased, then annoyed. All three emotions flashed across her face within a few seconds. Gabe was kind of impressed.

  “That’s really nice, but we’re not really to the flower-sending stage, are we?” she asked.

  And that annoyed him. “I didn’t realize there was a specific flower-sending stage.”

  Addison took a deep breath. “I guess it just seems . . .”

  “Nice?” he supplied when she trailed off. “Sweet? Thoughtful? Romantic?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly with a frown, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening. “Romantic.”

  Well, good. “Then you’re welcome.”

  She scowled up at him. “I don’t want romantic, Gabe. Or sweet or nice.”

  That was stupid. “You’re actually annoyed that I sent them?”

  She blew out a breath. “Yes.”

  Bullshit. She’d loved them. Magnolias were exactly the kind of thing to make her go all soft and sweet and giddy. Giddy was exactly how she looked and acted and, dammit, felt when they were out and about in the Quarter. He loved that look on her. It was what made him put up with things like the souvenir shops on Decatur and the line at Café du Monde and eating the gumbo at the place on St. Peter that Addison loved. He didn’t eat gumbo anywhere but at his mother’s house. Because she used his grandmother’s recipe, and no one made gumbo like his grandma. They didn’t even serve it at the bar because it would never live up to what he believed gumbo should be.

  “So you’d rather I just stick to things li
ke sucking bourbon off your tits or fingering you to orgasm on my balcony while you watch a parade?”

  Her cheeks got pink, her eyes got wide, and she stepped close, lowering her voice. “Stop it.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here.” Except that he knew what was going on here. She only wanted sex from him. And he should have been fine with that. Truthfully, only about half his frustration was because of her. The other half was directed at himself. Because he wasn’t fine with that. At all.

  “Gabe!”

  Suddenly a booming male voice from down the hall interrupted them.

  Gabe dragged in a deep breath, not even realizing until then that he’d been breathing harder. He gave Addison a last look. She was also breathing faster, and her cheeks were still pink. Then he turned and gave Travis Monroe a smile. “Hey, Travis.”

  Travis took Gabe’s hand in a firm shake. “Good to see you,” he said, thumping Gabe on the back. He looked at Addison. “I see you’ve met our newest associate.”

  Gabe didn’t look at Addison as he nodded. “Addison and I have been spending some time together since she’s been here consulting.”

  “No kidding.” Travis looked back and forth from one to the other. “Well, then, you’re probably especially happy about her move.”

  “Her move?”

  “We’re thrilled to have her. Addison is a perfect fit in New Orleans. Don’t know what she saw in the Big Apple anyway.” He grinned at Addison. “Hey, we should have you sit in on the meeting with Gabe. You’d love his bar. The structure and history are right up your alley.”

  Gabe didn’t know what the hell was going on, but instinctually he wanted to let the other man, and any other human being, for that matter, know that Addison had very much seen his bar. So to speak. “Addison’s been at Trahan’s a number of times,” he told Travis. “In fact, she’s the one who encouraged me to hire you guys. I couldn’t ignore her recommendation.”

  Travis looked at Addison with surprise. “I didn’t know that. Well, thanks, Ad. And Gabe, glad you listened to her.”

  Yeah, he really didn’t like Travis calling her Ad. “I think Addison could talk me into just about anything,” Gabe said.